Carpe Diem
by Ryan Brooklyn
Summary: Maggie Meyers finds herself in a desperate situation when her father refuses to accept her long lost brother and her only help comes in the form of an infuriating, smart-mouthed newise. Contains the King of Brooklyn, Mush, and no MarySues.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **_I do not own any newsie. Not even Spot Conlon. (sigh . . .) Maggie, her family (minus Tommy, I'll leave you to figure that one out ;-) ), and a few others are mine, but everyone else belong solely to Disney._

**A/N: For my sanity (and yours) I will not be writing in a way to show the Newsies' accents. Everyone knows they have the various New York accents, do I really need to torture myself trying to spell them all out how it sounds? I've never even been to New York. So yeah, that's my excuse why you'll find everything spelled correctly. Use your imagination if you really want the accents. :-P**

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****Chapter 1**

"Maggie. Maggie. Maggie. Maggie!"

I cracked my eyes open slowly, squinting in the bright light from the sun. My bleary blue eyes met the bright ones of my ten-year-old sister Minnie. I tried to close my eyes to go back to sleep, but she continued to shake me.

"What is it?" I asked irritably.

"It's the triplets. They're crying and Papa isn't home."

I stumbled out of bed and tried to smooth my sandy hair from the wild mop it had turned into while I was asleep. After several attempts I gave up. I walked unsteadily over to Ruth, Lillian, and Helen's crib. Handing one of them to Minnie, I picked up the other two and bounced them gently on my hip in an effort to calm them. I was suddenly thankful for all the heavy grocery baskets I had to carry each Monday. My arms were strong and sturdy, which was good when holding two crying babies.

I noticed little Rose and Anna still sleeping on their cot. With their golden hair splayed out on their pillows like halos, they looked like angels. I knew they wouldn't be once they were up. Their angelic faces were deceiving.

I made my way over to the kitchen and placed Ruth and Lilly in their highchairs. Minnie followed with Helen. I turned to our small stove and started up some oatmeal for the girls. I told Minnie to go wake up Rose and Anna just as Florence came skipping over, her blue eyes bright and her golden hair neatly brushed.

"Maggie, when's Papa coming home?" She asked.

"Never, I hope." I growled.

Tears filled her eyes. I sighed. Florence was only five years old and did not know how much of a jerk her father was. I smiled in apology and handed her a bowl of oatmeal. She took it solemnly and sat down to eat it. Minnie came in soon after with Rose and Anna. Mary followed sleepily, rubbing her brown eyes tiredly. In her arms she clutched her small baby blanket. It was the last thing Mama had made before she died.

After we finished breakfast, the girls left for school. I cleaned up here and there around the house and, a short time later, watched the triplets fall asleep. I had dropped out of school the year before Mama died; she was weak and needed my help. Then after she died a year ago, I had to stay home and help with the girls. I collapsed on my cot and stared at the sleeping babies. It was in times like these when I missed Thomas the most. After Tommy had left, Papa became more irritable. Then he started drinking after Mama died, so now all the responsibilities of raising the girls were left to me.

Thinking of Tommy made the corners of my mouth curl in a slight smile. He had been the only one to be born with the dark brown hair and eyes of Mama. Most of us had the unfortunate privilege of having the blonde hair and blue eyes of Papa. Little Mary was the only girl with brown hair and eyes. Tommy had run away from home when he was ten. I had, with the childish hope of an eight-year-old, expected him to come home any moment. But he hadn't. That had been seven years ago. He did not even know about Florence, Mary, or the triplets.

Papa hated the fact that his only son had deserted him. I did my best to please him, but Mama needed me at home more than at the factory. Plus she was determined her girls would have the school education she had been deprived of in Italy. She had immigrated to America a few years before I was born, with Papa on the same boat from Sweden. They had met at the docks and the rest is history. Papa had always been on the gruff side, but I had always thought that he loved us more than air. Apparently that love had dissipated after Mama's death.

I looked at the tall clock across from me and noticed it was time to buy the groceries. I knocked on the wall above my cot three times. An answering knock vibrated through the wood and I knew my friend Chava Goldenberg was on her way to watch the triplets. I grabbed my basket and the grocery money I kept hidden underneath my pillow. Kissing each triplet on their golden heads, I exited our apartment just as Chava was entering. We smiled and nodded to each other but I was in a hurry to leave so I could get back soon.

The market was crowded as usual, and newsies yelled from the street corners. I made my purchases quickly, my steps lagging as the basket grew heavier. I rounded a corner and hoisted the basket higher on my hip, trying to figure out a comfortable position for it. I was concentrating so much on the basket that I neglected to watch where I was going. I collided with a newsie and dropped my heavy load. The kid merely grabbed a rolling apple and took off. I screamed curses at him in my head, which my mother would be ashamed of.

After gathering as much scattered fruit and vegetables that I could, I made my way back home. I was almost to the front steps of the tenant house when I heard a voice behind me ask,

"Hey, you need help with that, lady?"

I turned and looked surprised at a newsie standing behind me. He didn't look like the type that would ask for help. He was older than me by a year or so and had a proud look about him that would have made me gag under any other circumstances. As it were, I declined politely, half because I didn't trust him and half because I was already at my front steps. I could carry it the rest of the way.

"No thank you, I can manage."

The boy shrugged. "Suit yourself," he said before turning and walking away, swinging a well polished cane beside him.

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes and made my way up the stairs and into the tenant house. I struggled with my load for a while before I reached our apartment on the fourth floor. Chava helped me put away the groceries and stayed awhile to talk. The triplets soon fell asleep and the conversation lagged. After a while Chava spoke up.

"Do you want to come to Manhattan on Wednesday with me? Mama can watch the triplets. I want to visit Aaron."

I looked down, studying the floorboards in thought. I knew Chava didn't get to see Aaron much because he worked at a restaurant in Manhattan, but I wasn't sure I wanted to see him again. He had been interested in me a couple of years ago, but I was unable to reciprocate the affection. Chava, Aaron, and their parents were Jewish, but were not as Orthodox as most. While they had not minded me not being a Jew, Mr. and Mrs. Goldenberg were slightly upset that he had not chosen a Jewish girl, but they were not about to kick him out of the house. Secretly though, I think they were relieved when I said no. Of course Aaron was good-looking, with the dark hair and intense eyes of his sister, and nice and polite, but I just could not like him in that way. He said he understood, and that we could be just friends, but there was always some uneasiness between us.

Chava seemed to sense my hesitancy. She poked my arm.

"Come on, it'll be fine. He's gotten over you by now. Besides, you need to get out of this neighborhood for a while. Please?"

I looked up into her wide brown eyes and had to laugh. She looked ridiculous in her puppy dog face. I nodded.

"Fine, I'll come with you to see Aaron."

Chava smiled happily. "That's my Maggie."

She talked on but I stopped listening. I thought of Aaron, strong independent Aaron, and was reminded of Tommy. Tommy had told me he was running away. Told me right out. I had wanted to go with him but he wouldn't let me. He promised he would be back when he finished his adventure. Now I wonder if he's even still alive.

Minnie and the girls came home from school and I fixed them dinner. One by one they went off to bed until I was the only one awake. I made sure they were all tucked in nicely and went to sit by the window that sat in front of the fire escape. The same window which Tommy had used to leave. I sighed and leaned my forehead against the pane, my breath frosting the glass. Every night I whispered a prayer for Tommy, asking God to watch over him and to keep him safe. I used to ask for God to bring him back, but stopped after it came apparent that God wasn't answering _that _request. I glanced up at the sky as a shooting star flew across the blackness of the night. I wondered if Tommy had seen that star and was missing us as much as I was missing him.

00000

Chava came for me as soon as Minnie had taken the girls to school. Her mother, Mrs. Goldenberg, came over and instantly the girls began to coo at her. I smiled slightly. She sure did have a way with the little ones. Her sparkling dark eyes smiled at me. She had been a bit standoffish during the time Aaron was attracted to me, but once I had backed away, she became friendlier towards me. Thankfully, Chava had always been my friend.

I kissed Ruth, Lilly, and Helen goodbye and Chava and I made our way out the door and down the stairs to the outside of the tenant house. She chattered eagerly, as was her custom, and I listened pensively, as was mine. Chava had always been one to talk, while I chose to observe and contemplate. We were as different as night and day and yet were still friends. It's a wonder to me, but Chava says it's because God planned it that way. Well, I wasn't about to get in the way of God's plan, but I still worried about our first fight which had to be soon since we haven't fought since we met, which was five years ago.

I was glad for a friend like her. Her happy chatter kept my mind off Tommy and Papa. She always knew what to say to make me feel better. I sometimes wondered how she even knew I was feeling bad, and she said it was because my face was an open book. That made me feel slightly uneasy. Did that mean every time a stranger saw me, they knew exactly how I was feeling? It was a good thing I had no enemies. They would walk all over me for sure.

The journey to Manhattan was uneventful. Chava was finally winding down and when we got to Tibby's Restaurant, she had stopped talking completely. I knew however, that she would start up again once she saw Aaron.

The restaurant was partially crowded, especially a corner table full of rowdy newsies. Chava giggled and pointed to a tall brown-headed boy wearing a cowboy hat down his back. She whispered that he was cute. I rolled my eyes and made my way to the back were the busboys were gathered for a dinner break. I did not bother to tell Chava her parents would be ashamed of her behavior. She did not care about her parents' traditions when it came to boys. A few catcalls followed her as she joined me. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes again. Chava was much too pretty for her own good. It was times like these when I was glad I hadn't inherited mother's famed beauty.

"Have you seen Aaron?" I asked the busboy closest to me.

"Goldenberg? Yeah, he was here. Left a few minutes ago to get some bread."

Chava looked like she was about to laugh. "Isn't there bread here he can eat?"

The boy looked at her appreciatively. I almost gagged. Another boy was staring at me. I glared at him. He blushed and looked away. The first boy nodded to the door.

"Here he comes now."

Aaron Goldenberg walked into Tibby's, his handsome face looking just as I remembered. For some strange reason my heart twitched when I saw him. He was carrying a loaf of bread and his face broke into a smile when he saw his sister. Chava squealed and threw herself into his arms. A familiar ache filled my chest. How long had I waited to greet Tommy liked that? I knew Minnie missed him too, even though she had only been three when he left. Chava had broken the hug and was now leading him towards me and the boys. The first busboy that had spoken nodded at Chava.

"Is this the little sister you've been telling us about?" He asked.

Aaron nodded. "Yup. Guys, this is Chava." He glanced at me, his gaze surprisingly indifferent. A strange shiver ran through me. He did not seem to recognize me. He turned back to Chava and began speaking to her. The busboys split the loaf he had brought and soon returned to their work. I suddenly felt out of place and awkward. I shifted from one foot to the other. Looking around the restaurant, I wondered how it kept so clean in such a dirty city as Manhattan.

"I still got some papes to sell. I'll see you all later."

A voice broke through my train of thought. I turned to see the newsies waving to a boy exited the café.

"See ya Mush!" The boys seemed to be saying.

I turned back to Chava and Aaron. All of a sudden I realized the voice had sounded familiar. I turned once again to the door but the boy was gone. Hurriedly leaving Tibby's, I scanned the streets. My heart was pounding in my chest. I heard a voice calling a headline to my right and looked to see a capped head disappearing into the crowds. It couldn't be . . . could it? I raced after the boy.

Before I knew it I had lost him and myself. Turning around and around I called out for "Mush," figuring it was safer to call him that in case my hunch was wrong. It had been so long since I had heard his voice. . . . Plus the last time we spoke he still had the falsetto of a small boy. This "Mush's" voice had been deep. Of course he would be seventeen by now. But I had been sure I had recognized that voice. I sighed and leaned against the wall of the alley I had found myself in. I pressed my back against it and closed my eyes.

A slight rustling caused my eyes to open. There, almost nose to nose with me, was a boy.

"'Ello miss. Are you lost?" The sinister grin on his face gave me shivers.

"No, I know exactly where I am." I said, shortly. I tried to step around him but he jumped into my path again.

"You know what happens to pretty ladies who find themselves in alleyways?" He asked. A few more boys whom I hadn't noticed stepped forward from the opposite wall. I swallowed hard. A scream ripped through my throat as the leader launched at me.

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**A/N: Muwahahaha!** _(rubs hands sinisterly)_** I love cliffhangers. :-P This is my first Newsies fic, so tell me what you all think!**

**Reviews make me feel warm and fuzzy inside.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **_Like I said before, I (sadly) do not own any newsie. Not even the wonderful Spot Conlon (sighs wistfully . . . . . . . . . oh right, sorry). So please don't sue. I don't have anything for you anyway. I'm not like Mr. Pulitzer. You think money grows on trees?!?_

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**Chapter 2**

Before the boy could grab me, a shout was heard from the far end of the alley. Suddenly the alley was filled with Manhattan newsies, the same newsies from the restraurant. I stepped back as I watched them fight. There were more newsies than there were bullies and they soon defeated them. The newsies were so busy congratulating each other and shouting insults at my fleeing attackers, none of them seemed to notice me. I tried to slip away but just then one of the newsies, a kid with a patch over his left eye, grabbed my arm.

"Here she is! She's alright!" He turned to me. "You're alright, right?"

I nodded, unable to speak. The boys crowded over to me. They all started talking at once and very loudly that I couldn't understand any of them. Then someone yelled "Back off" and the newsies did. A tall boy with brown hair stepped up to me. I realized it was the same boy Chava had been giggling over just moments before.

"What's a nice girl like you doing in a dark alley? You trying to get yourself killed?"

I again stumbled to come up with words to speak. "I-I was l-looking for someone."

The boys exchanged looks.

"In an alleyway?" A small boy asked.

"I-I guess I got lost."

"Where did you start from?" Another newsie asked.

"Tibby's restaurant, the one you all just came from. My friend's brother is a busboy there."

The leader newsie took my arm. "Why don't I take you back there?"

I nodded dumbly. The boys split up, each going his own way and shouting out headlines. The leader newsie led me out of the alley and into the street. He let go of my arm but kept close. He did not seem to be in a hurry for he walked lazily as if he were just out for a stroll.

"My name's Kelly. Jack Kelly. What's yours?"

"Maggie. Maggie Meyers." I said, finally keeping my voice steady.

Silence fell between us. I could see Tibby's in the distance and sighed in relief. Just before we came to the door, Jack put out a hand to stop me.

"Who were you looking for?"

I bit my lip, sure that he would think I was crazy. "I thought I recognized the boy you called 'Mush.' But I only heard his voice, so I probably just mistook him for someone else."

Jack looked thoughtful but didn't say anything. I thanked him hurriedly and reentered the restaurant. Chava and Aaron were still talking as if I had never left. I sighed and sat down to wait for them to finish. The table was still dirty and a busboy came to clean it up. He glanced at the siblings then back at me and smiled slightly.

"The third wheel?" He asked, his tone teasing.

I smiled tiredly. "I guess so."

The boy gave me another sympathetic smile before returning to his work. I sighed again. I could tell this was going to be a long day.

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Chava and I arrived at the tenant house around the same time Minnie and the girls did. Chava said goodbye and entered her apartment. I brought Minnie and the girls into ours and greeted Mrs. Goldenberg. She handed me a bright eyed Lilly and quietly left. Helen and Ruth woke soon after and the rest of the day was filled with the mopping up of spills, the wiping of runny noses, the breaking up of arguments, the running of baths, and the helping with homework. Once they were all in bed I collapsed on my cot for a few moments before getting up and cleaning the small apartment as best I could.

I was halfway done with the kitchen when he came home. I froze as I heard the door open then slam shut. I winced and prayed he had not awakened the little ones. He stomped into the kitchen looking drunk as a dog.

"Where's my supper?" He slurred.

"It's heating on the stove now, Papa." I said hurriedly.

I picked up the pot I had left simmering on our small stove and scooped the contents into a bowl, handing it to him along with a spoon. He stared at it for a few seconds while I nervously grasped my fingers behind my back.

"Is this all we got?" He asked in a low tone.

I started to feel uncomfortable. "Yes Papa, you didn't give us much money so—"

"It's all your fault," he growled. "There's too many girls in this house that eat too much. They don't give a damn about their old man."

"But Papa, the money—"

"Get out!"

"What?" My voice trembled.

"I said get out! There's too many mouths to feed, you can take care of yourself. Now get out before I throw you out."

"But what about the babies? Who will take care of them?" Tears were coursing down my cheeks.

"That Jew next to us can, she's only got two brats herself."

"But Papa—"

"I said 'out'!"

So I fled. Not looking back I raced down the stairs and out of the tenant house. I knew I should not leave the girls alone but I was sure Papa would not hesitate to do something worse than kick me out if I stayed. My breath choked with sobs. I wondered if I would ever be able to return.

It was raining when I reached the center of Brooklyn. My feet stung for I had not taken the time to put on my shoes. I collapsed on the front steps of a building, not caring what it was. I pulled my knees up to my chest and wrapped my arms around them. My usually golden hair looked like a muddy yellow. It was covered in dirt and soaked until it ran in strings across my face.

Somehow being outside and alone in the rain caused me to wonder if Tommy had ever been in a situation like this. Had he ever cried in the rain because he could not find anyone to take care of him? He had only been a little boy when he had left, why hadn't he come back? He said he had gone looking for adventure but surely he must have felt homesick at one point or another.

I closed my eyes and shivered in the cold rain. It had been late when Papa had returned so I knew everyone was in bed by now. No one would be out in this thunderstorm anyway. I was all alone.

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You know the feeling you get when you know someone is watching you and you're not sure if they are friendly or not? That's the feeling I had when I awoke the next morning. I opened my eyes slightly, squinting in the bright sun. I could see from the amount of shoes on the street that it was still early morning. My gaze drifted to the person who was staring at me. He was silhouetted by the sun so I could not see his face, but I'd recognize that gold tipped cane anywhere. It was the newsie who had offered to help me with the groceries Monday.

"Runaway?" He asked.

I sat up slowly, blinking and trying to see his face. "Papa kicked me out, not enough food."

He nodded solemnly as if he understood completely. He held out his hand. I stared at it a moment then took it. He helped me up and stood there watching me as I tried to shake the wrinkles out of my skirt. I knew I must have looked a sight. My hair was dirty and still damp, my blouse was muddy and my skirt was torn. My feet stung and when I looked down I saw that I had lost my toenail and it was bleeding. I bit my lip as my body finally registered it was hurt and started sending waves of pain up my leg. I tried to ignore it and looked up into the newsie's face.

"Hello," I said with forced vitality. "Lovely weather we're having, don't you think?"

The newsie smirked slightly. Lifting his cap of his head, he bowed grandly. "The name's Conlon, Spot Conlon. King of the Brooklyn Newsies. And you are?"

"Margaret Meyers. My friends call me Maggie." I looked him up and down with a critical eye born of helping raise eight younger siblings. He still seemed the cocky type. "_You_ can call me Margaret." I finished.

Spot Conlon raised an eyebrow, the smirk never leaving his face. "Well then, Margaret, what's your plan of action now that you're out on the streets?"

I thought about that. I really had no idea what to do next. There were plenty of factories I could work in, but I had heard horror stories from Chava about them. Thinking of Chava made me remember Aaron. Aaron lived in Manhattan now, at a lodging house. Perhaps he could think of someplace I could stay.

"Could you direct me to the street that leads to Manhattan? I have a . . . friend there who might be able to help me."

The newsie seemed to think about it for a moment. He turned and walked away down the street. I stood there a moment, puzzled that he would just up and leave, before I figured I'd follow him until he helped me.

He walked over to another newsie and started speaking in low tones to him. I couldn't understand what they were saying without getting too close. So I watched from a distance, frowning as he gestured to me several times and as a smile started forming on the other newsie's face. I started to stamp my foot impatiently before I remembered that I wasn't wearing any shoes.

Spot came back with the other newsie right behind him.

"This is Cricket. He'll get you over to Manhattan. Once you find who you're looking for, he'll leave you with them. Got it?"

I nodded. Cricket jerked his head towards the road, indicating he wanted me to follow him. I turned to Spot to thank him, but he was staring at me with a strange expression on his face. I gave him a look and he gave me such a large smirk that I decided not to. He seemed to have a big enough ego; he didn't need me stoking it.

Cricket started leading me down the street and soon we were out of sight from the city's center. It got very quiet after a while and I tried to engage Cricket in a conversation, but he was either ignoring me or he couldn't talk. I settle on concentrating on the scenery and trying to keep up, limping from my wounded toe.

After a while though, I found myself studying the boy next to me. I realized he could not be much older than Minnie. What had driven him to the streets? Poverty? A death in the family? Adventure? Tommy came to mind. I glanced at the boy.

"Have you ever heard of a boy named Thomas Meyers?" I asked him.

Cricket looked at me then back at the road. He shook his head. I sighed. I could see Cricket watching me out of the corner of my eye. I kicked at the dirt and then grimaced when the hard road came in contact with my bloody toe. Cricket glanced at it. Suddenly he reached down and grabbed my ankle, knocking me hard on my bottom. I cried out in surprise. The boy did not look at me but instead gave his full attention to my toe. I watched him curiously. Taking a close look at it, he twisted and turned it until I felt ready to slap him. Then he spit on it.

"Hey!" I yelped, surprised.

He paid no attention to me but picked up some dirt and mixed it with the spittle on my toe. I was about to protest when suddenly I found that my toe felt cool. The heat from the pain had dwindled. I stood cautiously. I took a step forward, Cricket nodded encouragingly. I found I could walk without a limp. We started down the road again.

A few minutes passed and then Cricket started whistling. He took me by surprise for the second time that hour. His whistle was high and had an almost insect quality. He was whistling a well known song and I smiled slightly. Now I knew why they called him "Cricket".

We reached Manhattan by midday. He stopped whistling as well as walking. I looked down at him.

"Why did we stop?" I asked.

He looked up at me expectantly. I realized he did not know where to take me. I blushed slightly.

"Oh, um. My friend works at Tibby's Restaurant around the center of the city. Next to that big statue?"

Cricket nodded, apparently knowing where that was, and then led me straight to it. It seemed like he had been there before. I sighed in relief when I saw the restaurant. I turned to Cricket.

"Thank you so much for bringing me here. I don't know how I can repay you; I don't have any money with me."

He gave me a small smile and shrugged. He patted my hand and turned to leave.

"Wait!" I called. "Do you know how to read?" I asked him.

He looked at me strangely but nodded. I spied a discarded newspaper and tore off a page. Looking around for something to write with, I spied a piece of charcoal fallen from a trash bucket. I scooped it up and wrote down an address on a blank spot on the newspaper. I then handed the piece of paper to the boy.

"Go to this address and tell the man there that Maggie sent you. He'll give you something nice."

Cricket smiled slightly then nodded. I ruffled his hair affectionately. He pulled away but his smile grew. He waved a hand casually before running off. I took a deep breath before turning and facing Tibby's. I just hoped Aaron would pay more attention to me today then he had the day before.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **_No! I do not own Spot Conlon or any other character in _Newsies_! And thank you so much for bringing up such a painful subject. While you're at it why don't you just give me a nice paper cut and pour lemon juice on it?!?_

**A/N: Just FYI, I changed the café to Tibby's Restaurant because I just saw the movie again and remembered that was the name of the Manhattan newsie gathering place.**

**Oh yeah, and above disclaimer was borrowed partially from **Philippa **(great writer) and partially from** _The Princess Bride_ **(great movie).**

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**Chapter 3**

If Aaron looked surprised when he saw me in Manhattan after just being there, he seemed even more surprised at my ragged appearance. He quickly came over to me, nearly knocking over a fellow busboy on the way. I stood nervously shifting from one foot to the other, waiting for whatever he had to say. He stood there, looking down at me, saying nothing. Finally he took my arm and led me away from the staring eyes of the restaurant.

"Maggie, are you alright? You look awful." He looked sincerely concerned for me.

_Which is more than Spot was._ I told myself that Spot, being "King of the Brooklyn Newsies," had better things to be concerned about than outcast, muddy girls. Besides why was I even thinking of him? I didn't even like him.

"Papa threw me out." I said plainly. "Too little food."

"Oh Maggie." He frowned sadly. "Have you told Chava?"

I smiled slightly. "I kinda left in a hurry."

He nodded but looked puzzled. "Then why are you here?"

"Well," I started shifting again. "I figured that, since you live here, you might know of a good lodging house I could live in. And if there are any jobs here that I could apply for to earn money to stay."

Aaron looked at me skeptically. "Don't you have a great-uncle or something that could help you?"

My hopeful look shifted into a hard frown. "Papa and Uncle Leo hate each other. There was some sort of family feud before I was born."

"So? Does he hate you?"

"No . . ." I said slowly. "But Papa has forbidden us to visit him."

Aaron sighed and ran a hand through his thick dark hair. "Look, your Papa kicked you out of your home. I don't think it matters now what rules he's given you in the past. If you want my opinion, I say to go to your uncle's."

I frowned. "Thanks." I said sarcastically. I turned sharply to leave. A hand on my elbow stopped me. I looked back up at him.

"Listen Maggie. I care about you, and not just because you're my sister's best friend."

I sighed. "Aaron, we've already been through this—"

"Wait. I want you to know that I only want the best for you. I wouldn't send you to your uncle's if I knew things would turn out badly. Now, you're welcome to stay in Manhattan and work a job and barely make a living off of skimpy pay, or you can live in that castle of a house your uncle owns. I want you to be happy, Maggie. Go to your uncle."

The intense look in his dark eyes sent imaginary shivers up my spine. I looked away, nodding dumbly. Aaron released my arm. I looked back up and saw that his face had softened. He brought a hand up to my cheek. He did not touch it, he only let his fingers hover just centimeters from my flushed face, before letting his hand drop to his side.

"Yasher koach," he said, lifting his other hand to my forehead.**1**

I smiled slightly. He lowered the hand then smiled back, nodding in encouragement.

"Shalom."

I nodded back. "Shalom. Thank you."

Feeling that a simple 'thank you' wasn't enough for practically saving my life from the dreaded streets, I stood on tiptoe and quickly gave him a peck on the cheek. Turning swiftly, I hurried out of the restaurant, not daring to see his expression.

After I left the restaurant, I thought about where I was headed. I hadn't seen Uncle Leo for years. The one time I did see him was when Mama snuck me, Tommy, and Minnie out to meet him. He hadn't seemed like the crazy old coot Papa kept ranting about. He seemed nice, a bit standoffish, but nice. I wondered how he would respond to his great-niece showing up asking for help. Especially after she had sent a scrawny, dirty newsboy to his house for a free handout.

I couldn't think about that now. I just had to go up and face him. The road back to Brooklyn was bleak and boring without Cricket's cheerful whistling. Stars began to blink their bright eyes open and the moon started to peak out from behind pink and purple clouds. It was so beautiful I might have burst out singing if I had been in the mood.

As it was I almost wanted to curse the sky for being so perfect while my life was a mess. I kicked at a rock only to yelp in pain and curl my bruised toes. I glared at the offending rock and I almost believed I could see its white little mouth smirk at me. I stuck my tongue out at it, not caring that my behavior was childish. I wanted to sulk and I had the right to.

The street my uncle lived on was reserved for really rich people. I knew that if the prissy little maids saw me in my condition now, they would turn up their little noses and send me off without a question as to who I was. I could be the Queen of Sheba and they wouldn't care because of the way I looked.

I hesitated in front of Uncle Leo's mansion. I knew Papa would kill me if he saw me here. He hated Uncle Leo for some reason, and if Mama hadn't been his favorite niece, Uncle Leo would hate Papa also. I took a deep breath and started up the large steps. The brass knocker was in the shape of a lion's head. I smiled slightly. Obviously Cricket had already been here. I could make out black spectacles and a French moustache adorning the lion's majestic face.

I let out a breath and lifted the knocker. Letting it fall I knocked three times. Nothing happened. I knocked again. Nothing. Now I knew why Cricket had drawn on the lion. As I stared at it I wondered how he had reached that high.

Finally the door inched open. The man on the other side was the perfect replica of a stuffy butler.

"Yes, may I help you?" He asked in an aristocratic voice with such a serious face that would have been funny if he hadn't looked like someone who wouldn't appreciate it very much.

"I'm Margaret Meyers. Leonardo Russo's great-niece?"

The butler took in my ratty appearance and hopeful look and sniffed slightly. "Very well, come in."

I thanked him and stepped cautiously into the large foyer. I took care not to track dirt on the nice polished floor. The butler did not seem to notice. He gestured toward a large room to our right.

"You may sit here while I get Master Leonardo."

I nodded dumbly, lowering myself carefully onto the large, expensively upholstered armchair. I glanced around the room. It had been so long since I had last been in here. Everything seemed slightly smaller which I attributed to the fact that I had last been here when I was five and therefore a lot smaller myself.

The gold coloring of the walls gave the room a warm feeling. A fire was crackling in the large fireplace and even while I was nervous, I felt at home as well. The golden tassels on all of the furniture shone and the floor length mirrors that hung on all four walls glittered in a way that flaunted their religiously polished state.

I stood quickly when Uncle Leo entered the room. He was an older man, in his eighties I think, and had to get around by wheelchair. I braced myself for any scolding I might get, but instead his eyes filled with tears and he beckoned me to him.

"Is that you Margaret? My how you've grown. Come here girl. Let me get a good look at you."

I stepped forward slowly. I took his outstretched hand and he pulled me closer. His bright black eyes looked me up and down appraisingly. He frowned at my muddled state.

"Heavens girl, what has that father of yours done to you?"

"Nothing." I said hurriedly. "I left because there wasn't enough food for everyone. I wanted to know if I could stay here a while."

"Why certainly. I'll have one of the maids fix up a room for you."

He gestured to the butler who had brought him in and the man nodded and left. He then smiled at me.

"Now, tell me about yourself. I haven't seen you since you were a little one."

For the next hour and a half I told Uncle Leo about myself. I told him about Tommy leaving and about the triplets. He knew Mama had died in childbirth, but he did not know the triplets' names. I told him about meeting Chava and Aaron, and about Jack Kelly and Spot Conlon. I told him about Cricket and he mentioned that the boy had stopped by earlier and got a feast fit for a king. I smiled at that. The sight of skinny little Cricket stuffing his face full of good food was both endearing and frightening.

A maid led me up to a nice room where I changed into a beautiful silk nightgown. I almost refused it because it seemed too expensive to sleep in. The maid helping me just giggled and told me not to worry about the cost of the nightgown and to just enjoy the luxury. I had no problem with that.

It was only after the lights had been turned out that I remembered that I shouldn't be so happy here while Minnie and the other girls were probably starving back home. I decided right then and there to get a job and send the money to Chava in order to pay for the girls' education and food.

000000

Uncle Leo found a seamstress near the center of Brooklyn that agreed to let me work for her for a minimum wage. Money was money and I wasn't about to see it wasted. I applied for the job and the next thing I knew I was stocking bolts of cloth, mending tears, and waiting on stuffy ladies who would like to do nothing less than stand around and let maids and shop girls do all the work.

Chava came to see me my first day. She was bubbling with excitement that I had found a job. I told her that I would send my earnings to her and she would have to make sure the girls got fed. Then I asked how they were doing.

"Minnie is up to her blonde pigtails in work. Poor thing. She takes care of the others now. I help when I can and so does Mama. But Minnie has the brunt of the work. Rose and Anna help, but they are young yet and can't do as much work as they need to."

I sighed and leaned against the counter I was currently wiping down. "Tell them I love them, and I'm proud of them. I would return if I could. It's been what? Two days? It seems like a lifetime."

"Where are you staying?"

"My uncle's."

"You mean that rich uncle that you told me about? The one with the sour expression?"

I slapped her with my rag. "I never said he looked sour."

"No, but you were thinking it. Back when you first met him."

"That was a long time ago. He's not that bad. Will you keep the money for the girls?"

Chava nodded, suddenly solemn. "Yes Maggie. I will."

We talked for a while longer before she had to leave. We hugged and I finished up stocking the red cloth. I wrote in my hours in the log book, bid Mrs. Kleppman 'Goodnight,' and left for Uncle Leo's house.

When I got outside I was surprised to find Spot Conlon near the door.

"What are you doing here?" I asked.

"I heard you worked here."

"How could you hear that? I just started."

"Word gets around fast on the streets." He smirked.

I frowned. "Well, that's nice isn't it?" I tried to step around him but he blocked my path.

"I wanted to say thank you for helping out Cricket like you did. He needed the food. The poor kid lost both his parents in a fire. Hasn't spoken since."

I felt a pang in my chest. My heart ached for little Cricket. Were there more boys like him on the street? There must be. New York was a busy city with an ever growing population. There simply wasn't enough room for everyone. Fires were common in the tightly packed wooden houses that lined the less fortunate neighborhoods.

Spot was still staring at me and I frowned again. "Well, it was only as a reward for taking me to Manhattan. I wouldn't do it for just anyone."

Spot smirked again. I gritted my teeth. How I hated that smirk. I wanted so badly to wipe it off his face.

"You're softer than you appear." He stated.

I felt the blood rise to my cheeks. "And you are more arrogant than you appear."

He smirked a third time. "I'll take that as a compliment madam."

He stepped aside and let me pass. I did so gracefully. "You would." I muttered under my breath.

Halfway down the street I looked back to see him in the same position as before. He noticed my scowl and saluted me with his cane. I whipped my head around and walked off with my head held high . . . only to run into a cart full of vegetables. I swore I could hear Spot laughing behind me as I picked myself up and apologized profusely to the vender.

I did not give Spot the pleasure of seeing me glare at him, so I just walked away, keeping a good eye at where I was going. Uncle Leo noticed my limp however, and asked me what happened. When I told him, he started laughing as well. I finished supper in a huff but could not help smiling to myself as I remembered it later. I supposed I did look slightly ridiculous walking like that only to bump into something.

As I said my prayers after dark, I prayed for Tommy as always and then also for Uncle Leo. I also prayed that Uncle Leo and I would grow close during the time I was spending with him. I didn't want our relationship to be like the one between him and Papa. I also prayed for Minnie and the girls. How I wished I could see them again. I missed them more than I could say. Minnie's soft quiet ways, Rose and Anna's rambunctious antics, Florence's ceaseless questions, Mary's precious smile, and the triplets' sleeping faces. I missed them all.

However I could still smile as I fell asleep for I knew my work would help them. And there was always the chance that while I was out working I would run into Tommy. It was a small hope, but it was hope nonetheless.

**

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1** Hebrew blessing meaning roughly "may your strength be increased" 

**A/N: Thanks everyone, for reviewing. :-D I really appreciate it.**

**Reviews make me feel warm and fuzzy inside.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: **_I don't own _Newises_! Or this computer for that matter. (No I didn't steal it, but my dad paid for it.)_

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**Chapter 4**

I found I enjoyed my work at the clothing store. The new Montgomery Ward catalog was in stock and Mrs. Kleppman let me look through it during my break time. She also gave me some extra money to "buy the girls something nice." I thanked her gratefully.

I didn't have much but I filled in an order for some small school books for the older girls and a few pretty little dolls for the younger ones. I wrote down Chava's address but knew she would know who they were for. As I was browsing back through the pages of the catalog, I caught sight of a pair of boy leather shoes. I instantly thought of Cricket. The poor boy's shoes were in terrible condition if I remembered correctly. I chewed on my bottom lip thoughtfully, wondering what I should do.

I couldn't use Mrs. Kleppman's money, that was supposed to be for the girls and it would be stealing if I used any for Cricket for that's not who the money was intended. I could ask Uncle Leo for the money, but then it would not be from me. The money I was making now was going straight to the girls and they could not afford to miss a payment. I sighed wistfully and shut the catalog. Young Cricket would have to go without, I supposed. It broke my heart to think of his little feet cramped inside too-small shoes that were covered in holes.

"Why my dear girl, whatever is the matter?" Mrs. Kleppman appeared in front of me, gazing into my frowning face.

I wondered if I should tell her about Cricket, I figured it wasn't her business, but then again if she could help me . . .

"There's this little boy that I want to buy these shoes for, but they're two dollars! I just don't see how I can get enough money to pay for the shoes and for my sister's groceries." I hung my head, staring at the dusty floorboards. I would have to get to those right after my break.

"Well dear, did you think about working overtime? You could come in earlier in the morning and help the distributor bring in the new shipments. There should be some coming in tomorrow. You would have to get here around five thirty, is that too early, dear?"

I shook my head, surprised that she was even thinking about paying me overtime. "No Mrs. Kleppman, I can be here."

"Good. That will give you about fifty cents more. If you come in every week on Monday to help for the next four weeks, you'll get there."

I smiled happily. "Oh thank you Mrs. Kleppman. I really appreciate it, and I know Cricket will too!"

Mrs. Kleppman scrunched her light eyebrows. "Now what kind of a name is Cricket?" She wondered.

"Oh, that's not his real name. They just call him that because he can't talk but he whistles just like a cricket. See?"

"Oh yes, I see." Her brown eyes were twinkling at my excitement. "Now why don't you get along and sweep these floorboards, I saw you eyeing them while I was talking to you."

She walked away, calling over her shoulder. "You'll have to lock up tonight, dear. It's my son's birthday."

"Tell him I send my best wishes!" I called back, grabbing the broom.

I worked until around eight o' clock. I recorded my hours in the work log and tidied up around the front before getting my key and locking up. I turned towards the street home and nearly jumped out of my skin when I came eye to eye with Spot Conlon. I realized then how short he was.

"What is it this time Spot? You know, you always seem to be around whenever I get off work. Are you stalking me or something?"

It was too dark to see his face well underneath his hat, but I knew from experience that he was smirking.

"No" was his answer.

I waited for more. A flame flickered and his face was briefly illuminated while he lit a cigarette. I gagged.

"You know that stuff will kill you." I felt the need to say.

"Not for another few years."

I crossed my arms. "Are you going to answer my question?"

He extracted the cigarette and blew the smoke in my face. I coughed lightly and turned my nose and mouth away. He shrugged.

"It's a free country. I can do what I want."

I felt the urgency to abandon this useless conversation and so I did. Turning sharply on my heel and walked away down the darkening streets. I heard feet follow me, but I kept my gaze straight ahead. Spot came up along side me, the glowing stick of death moving from his hand to his lips and then back again. After a while he threw it to the side and then cold darkness surrounded us both.

"I don't think it's a good idea." His voice split the silence like a bell and caused me to jump slightly.

"What?" I asked, resisting the urge to look at him.

"Cricket doesn't mind rewards, but _charity_ don't suit him well."

I stopped walking abruptly. Spot's feet carried him a few more paces ahead before they stopped and turned to face my own. I did not watch as they neared, preferring to stare straight into his eyes. Well, the patch of blackness beneath his cap where his eyes were.

"You were eavesdropping?"

"It's a public store. Anyone can walk in and hear what you're talking about."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"And interrupt the conversation? How rude."

I rolled my eyes and made a face, thankful that he couldn't see me. So it was rude to interrupt but it was perfectly polite to eavesdrop. Oh yes, that made perfect sense. I knew he we smirking and that knowledge made me want to slap him silly.

"It's not charity." I said, referring to his comment earlier. "It's a gift. Besides, he needs them."

"Because you feel sorry for him." It was a statement, not a question.

I could feel my face growing hot. The street lamp we were under flickered as a man lit it. He barely glanced at us but kept walking, lighting the next lamp, and the next, all the way down the street.

"No. Because he needs them."

Spot looked at me, and I at him. Neither of us said anything for a while. I broke eye contact first, not that I could see his eyes, and walked around him. I had only gone a few steps when I realized he was following me. I stopped again and he came up behind me. I turned in exasperation.

"Will you stop following me? I already have you waiting to mock me every workday; I don't need you waiting at my house too. Why don't you just go away to wherever you newsies stay for the night?" I turned in a huff and started to stalk away, when Spot suddenly grabbed my arm roughly and turned me toward him.

He jerked me close, the sudden motion jarring me and making my heart race. His body was pressed close against mine and his voice was in my ear, his breath on my neck sending slight shivers down my spine.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." He whispered. I struggled to get away but his grip on my arm was like a vice. I raised my hand to slap his face but he grabbed that as well. I stood there, helpless while he stared down into my face. Our noses were almost touching and I resisted the urge to bite it off. I could see his eyes now, and the dangerously serious look in them almost frightened me.

"The streets of Brooklyn aren't safe at night for a girl. You wouldn't want to be caught alone here."

He released me and I took a giant step backwards. I found that my breathing was ragged. I rubbed the part of my arm that he had seized, figuring there was a bruise forming. I couldn't keep contempt out of my voice when I replied.

"Then why don't you get one of the newsies you govern over to walk me home, Your Majesty?"

Something flickered across Spot's face, although in the darkness I couldn't tell exactly what it was. But somehow I knew it wasn't a smirk. I turned and started walking again. Spot followed but I said nothing. An uncomfortable silence lingered between us but we made no effort to break it.

We came upon Uncle Leo's house several minutes later. If Spot was surprised at the size of the mansion, he did not look it. I climbed the steps to the large portico, aware that Spot was not following this time. As I reached the door I turned back. He was still standing at the bottom of the white marble steps.

I gnawed at my bottom lip, unsure of what to say next. He spared me the pain of thanking him by saluting me with his gold tipped walking stick, and walking away back down the street. I felt bad then, for not thanking him, when I realized he now had to walk all the way back alone and in the dark.

I let myself into the house and shut the door softly behind me. I was still confused as to why Spot Conlon had insisted to walk me home. This mystery joined all the other mysteries surrounding my life, and it was right up there with why Tommy had never come home.

Uncle Leo greeted me heartily. He was in the sitting room, the same golden one where I had waited that first evening. He had a deck of cards out and was shuffling them vigorously.

"Come here girl, have you ever played poker?"

I shook my head as I joined him. "I'm afraid not Uncle, I've never had the time."

"Ah well, now is the perfect time to start. I shall teach you."

I looked up into his old wrinkled face. "Should you be in bed Uncle?"

He looked up at me surprised, his dark eyes brighter than that of an old man. "Bite your tongue girl! How old do you think I am?"

I held back a smile. "Um, eighty-four?"

Uncle Leo was flabbergasted. "Eighty-eighty-four?" He stuttered heatedly. "I'm sixty-two young lady, and don't you forget it."

I could not help but giggle at his incredulous expression. "Yes Uncle."

After he had calmed down some, he taught me how to play poker. It was very confusing to me at first. We each had two cards, and four laid out one by one on the small table between us. Based on what kind of cards we held and their relationship to the ones lying before us, we bet on how confident we thought we could win. Peanuts for us, not money since Uncle Leo said it was wrong to gamble. He said such with a twinkle in his eye so I knew he had gambled sometime in the past.

We played for a while, him winning more often then me, and had a good time. The one moment where I wasn't smiling was when Uncle Leo asked me who "that roguish-looking young man" was who walked me home. I rolled my eyes.

"That was Spot Conlon. You saw him, huh?"

"That is a window you see facing the street." He said, with another twinkle. "How do you know him?"

"We met a couple of weeks ago, in my old neighborhood." I studied the cards lying before me. I looked at my own hand. Not good. I folded.

Uncle Leo dealt out new cards. "Do you fancy him?"

I almost dropped my new cards in shock. "What? I don't—I mean I could never—how could—"

Uncle Leo started laughing. He threw his head back and laughed until tears ran down his cheeks. I sat huffily, not knowing what was so funny. The kid was an arrogant brat and I fancied him like one would fancy a pig. Uncle Leo asked no more questions and we finished the game.

Later as I lay in bed, my thoughts turned towards Spot. The knowing looks Uncle Leo had given me the rest of the night irritated me to no end. Yet I could not help but remember the way Spot's body had felt pressed against mine on that dark street. I had to admit to myself, grudgingly, that it had felt nice. And his voice in my ear and his breath on my neck sent shivers through me even now.

But no, I refused to develop feelings for Spot Conlon. He was stuck up and rude. He annoyed me and always made me want to slap him. There was no way under heaven that I could ever fancy Spot Conlon. It was impossible.

I continued to tell myself that as I drifted off to sleep, ignoring the nagging feeling that Uncle Leo might be right in thinking I was starting to feel something for the handsome newsboy.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Sorry again for not updating sooner! I would give you a bunch of excuses, but I know you'll just skip over them to the chapter so I won't bother. :-P**

**Disclaimer: **_I do not own Spot Conlon. (sob) Or _Newises_. Or Disney. Or musicals. Or Laffy Taffy. I just don't. Tragic. Awful. Good movie though._

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**Chapter 5**

The next morning when my maid Susanna woke me at five o' clock I tried to figure out why she was here so early. I tried to wave her off but she persisted.

"Miss Margaret, remember you're working overtime today."

I groaned. I had forgotten about that. I let myself roll out of bed and stumbled to the restroom. I was still getting used to having my own restroom. In the tenant house we had to share one with four other families. A bedraggled, sleepy-eyed girl stared gloomily at me from the large mirror over the sink. Her blonde hair stuck up in all directions and her blue eyes were red-rimmed. She looked like a disheveled angel. Sniggering slightly at that image, I leaned over the sink and started washing my face.

Getting dressed quickly I bounded down the stairs to the kitchen. The cook, Mrs. Thompson, raised an eyebrow at me as she shuffled out of her room, still in her bathrobe. She headed towards the stove, pulling on her large apron.

"Now Miss Maggie, don't go thumping down the stairs like a herd of elephants. You'll wake up your uncle."

I grinned sheepishly as I took the buttered toast she handed me. Biting into it I ran a brush through my wild mane. As soon as it was as smooth as it was going to be, I quickly braided it and started on the scrambled eggs. Giving Mrs. Thompson a quick hug around her ample middle, I grabbed my shoes and rushed out the door. I couldn't afford to be late. Hopping up the street while putting on my shoes was a new experience for me, but it was worth it. I arrived at the shop just as the delivery men were started to unload.

Quickly I unlocked the back door and led them into the store room. They set the boxes down and, after I had tipped them, they left. I started unpacking and soon found myself surrounded by at least twenty piles of bolts of cloth, ribbons, pins, thread, and hats. I sighed. The shop didn't open until eight o' clock. I glanced at the new pocket watch Uncle Leo had given me. It was only six. I could tell this was going to be a long morning.

I was just starting to tackle the third pile when I heard a laugh turned snort from the doorway. I turned sharply then inwardly groaned as I recognized the figure silhouetted in open door. I realized that I must not have closed it all the way when the delivery boys had left.

"Got you work cut out for you," Spot Conlon said, smirking slightly.

I scowled. "Oh, it's just you." I turned back to the pile, two shades of blue cloth waiting to be stacked onto the shelves.

"Well that was a warm welcome."

I ignored him as he stepped into the room. Out of the corner of my eye I saw his foot nudge a gaudy maroon hat with a large fake bird attached to it. I turned quickly and snatched it up before he could think of ruining it.

"Go away, I'm busy." I growled.

"Is that any way to talk to someone who's come to help?"

I froze, my hand still gripping the hat as I was just about to set it on a shelf. I turned slowly and stared at him.

"What are you getting at?" I asked suspiciously. I couldn't read his expression and his eyes were again shaded by his cap.

"Nothing."

I shrugged then. "I don't care if you help. Just don't steal anything."

Spot laughed as if that were the most absurd thing he had ever heard. I had to grin sheepishly once I had turned my back on him. I could see what he thought was funny. What could Spot possibly want with ribbons, bolts of cloth, and gaudy hats? I let go of the hat and turned to a pile of boxed ribbons. I arranged them by color then stepped back, smiling slightly at the rainbow of satin that lined the shelf. I was suddenly reminded of the first time I had seen a rainbow. I had been with Tommy. My eyes suddenly filled with tears as a familiar ache grew in my chest. I blinked the tears away quickly. Turning away, I swiftly picked up a bolt of cloth. Unfortunately my vision was so blurry I did not see where I was going. The bolt hit something and flew out of my grasp. I realized with annoyance that the something was Spot's chest.

"Get out of the way," I muttered, angrily wiping my eyes, annoyed at myself for even tearing up in front of the cocky newsie. I snatched up the bolt once more and this time Spot moved out of the way as I stalked over and shoved the bolt underneath another bolt of the same color. I then walked firmly over to another bolt and repeated the process. Again I went back and again and again, fully aware that the newsie was watching my every heated movement. Finally I couldn't take it anymore. Flinging the next bolt at Spot I glowered at him.

"I'm not some freak at a circus," I shouted. "So stop staring at me!"

Storming out of the room I turned the corner and then leaned against it, breathing heavily. It was then that I allowed the tears to come. I was tired, I was hungry, and my arms and back was sore from lifting the supplies and the rainbow had reminded me how much I missed Tommy and thinking of Tommy made me think of the girls which made my heart break all over again.

I missed them all so much. Each day I wondered how they were getting along. Strong Minnie, how I missed her quiet, helping spirit; energetic Rose and Anna, mischievous but very affectionate; nosy Florence with her many questions and inquisitive mind; sweet, shy Mary, the only one now with Mama's features; adorable Ruth, Lillian, and Helen, just babies thrust into this harsh world; and Tommy . . .

Was Chava taking good care of them? Were they getting enough food? Were they warm enough? Were the twins being responsible enough to help Minnie with the babies? Where in the world was Tommy? I covered my face with my hands and sobbed.

Something brushed against my hands and when I removed them I saw a slightly dirty handkerchief dangling in front of my face. I took it slowly, muttering a thank you. I wiped my eyes and blew my nose before handing it back. The hand that took it simply tossed the dirty rag into a gutter. I frowned slightly at this overt display of littering but said nothing.

"You okay?" Spot asked gruffly.

I nodded. "Sorry for exploding like that." I glanced up at him just in time to see a smirk disappear.

"You look terrible." He said bluntly.

"I feel terrible," I replied just as bluntly.

He jerked his head toward the door into the back store room. "There's still stuff to put away."

I nodded abruptly. "I know." I said a bit annoyed.

He did not say anything as I brushed past him. My jaw dropped slightly when I walked into the room. Only one pile of supplies was left. I looked over at Spot but his face was expressionless. He stood in the doorway and watched as I put the rest away. Then I turned to look at him.

"I suppose you'll be wanting your share of the money now," I said reluctantly.

To my surprise Spot shook his head. "Naw, you keep it. It's for Cricket anyway."

I frowned. "But that's not fair. At least let me buy one of your papers or something."

Spot shook his head again, his jaw set. "Have a nice day at work."

He left before I could say anything else. Just then Mrs. Kleppman entered the room from the adjoining door that led from the store room to the shop.

"Well, well, well, this room looks nice. Did you have much trouble putting everything away?"

"No . . ." I answered truthfully, wondering whether or not I should tell her about Spot's help. She turned away before I could decide. I kept silent and followed her.

The rest of the day I spent in the shop. Helping costumers and sweeping the floor whenever there was a lull in the flow. Chava came by to tell me that little Mary had gotten sick with a cough and there was no money for medicine. I bit my lip. Weighing my sister's health against Cricket's shoes, I decided I loved my sister more. That evening when Mrs. Kleppman paid me extra for the overtime, I headed for the pharmacy.

I was so wrapped up in my worry about Mary, that I did not notice Spot walking beside me until I was almost to the shop. I frowned at him.

"Haven't you got anything better to do than follow me around? Haven't you got papers to sell or something?"

He pointed to the newspapers under his arm. "I am selling them. You haven't been noticing."

I frowned. "Well fine then." I entered the shop. The man at the counter found and handed me cough medicine, and my money bag greatly decreased in weight. I had not understood how expensive medicine could be. Spot was outside the door, apparently waiting for me. I scowled at him but did not speak, clutching the medicine to me tightly. It was only when I had started to turn down the street that would lead to the old tenet house when I realized Papa didn't want me in the apartment. I couldn't risk going up and being seen. I looked sideways at Spot who seemed not to have cared why we stopped. I cleared my throat slightly. He turned and looked at me. I held out the bottle of medicine, my face flushing slightly.

"Could you go up and ask for someone named Chava and then give this to her?" I asked.

Spot just continued to look at me. He seemed about to ask a question but suddenly he stopped. My eyes were swimming with unshed tears. I couldn't go up there, but Mary needed the medicine. I couldn't get myself to turn. Mary. I couldn't. Very slowly Spot took the bottle. Pushing past me rather roughly, he entered the tenet house. I wrapped my arms tightly around myself, fighting back tears. I had already cried enough for today. I took out my watch and glanced at it. Seven thirty. I looked up at the sky. It was getting dark.

Spot suddenly appeared at my elbow. He was empty handed besides that gold tipped walking stick he always carried. He swung it easily at his side now as we started walking once more. I bit my lip nervously, wondering if I should ask. Finally I did.

"Did you see . . . them?" I asked.

He looked sideways at me. "The room full of girls? Couldn't really miss them. How many kids do your parents' got?"

"Ten." I said immediately before pausing. "I mean nine . . ."

"Nine? You sure? Can't keep track of them?" He was smirking again. This annoyed me very much.

"If you must know my mother had ten children. My older brother ran away seven years ago. That's why we're only nine now." My voice trailed off.

He looked at me curiously. "Your surname is Meyers?" He asked.

I nodded. "Yes," I said suspiciously. "Why?"

Spot looked thoughtful but did not answer. The rest of the walk to Uncle Leo's house was uneventful. I was about to point out that every night walking home from the shop was uneventful and that he needn't always walk to the mansion with me, but did not. He had helped me in more ways than one. Before I started up the steps to the door, I rummaged for my purse and then drew out two half dollars. I grabbed Spot's hand before he could protest and pressed the coins into his hand.

"That's for helping me with the shop and for taking the medicine to Mary." I said.

He frowned and tried to give the money back. "I told you I didn't want this." He said roughly.

I shook my head, refusing to take back the payment. "I had to spend most of it on the medicine anyway. Just take it."

I turned and ran up the steps to the door, letting myself in before Spot could call me back or throw the coins at my head. The rest of the evening passed contentedly. I played some more poker with Uncle Leo after supper, he won of course, before going to bed and reading for a bit. _Oliver Twist_ made me remember Cricket which made me think of Spot. He was more like the Artful Dodger, I mused. Dodger happened to be my favorite character. I hadn't noticed the similarities between him and Spot. As I drifted off to sleep later, I frowned slightly. I could not get out of my head the look in Spot's eyes as we left the tenet building. He acted as if he had recognized something. However, before my brain had time to figure it out, I had fallen asleep.

000000

The next four weeks were grueling. I got up every Monday at five to work overtime. Spot was always there to help. I insisted on paying him but his face darkened so intensely, I stopped after the second week. The rest of the days were spent working in the shop, playing poker with Uncle Leo, reading, or visiting Aaron with Chava. Aaron seemed very happy to see me and even happier when I told him about how my life had improved since going to my uncle's. Chava treated me to a shopping trip while we were in Manhattan and I even got to see that Jack Kelly. He grinned when he saw me and asked if I had gotten myself into any soakings lately. I didn't know what he was talking about and neither did Chava. He just winked and walked off when I asked him.

My two coins that I gave Spot turned up mysteriously during the first week. The butler handed them to me along with a note that read:

_Keep youre stinkin mony._

I couldn't help but grin. I never mentioned the note to Spot, but every time afterwards when I thought of it, a small smile forced its way upon my lips. However, I could never bring myself to give Spot a genuine smile face to face. Not when he was helping in the store room, or when he was walking me home. Nothing ever happened during those walks either. Once a homeless man started looking leery at me; Spot grabbed my arm and pushed me to his other side while giving the man a hard glare. That was the worst it got though. And since we refused to talk to each other unless we felt we had to, the walks were quite dull.

Finally the day came when I could order the shoes for Cricket. Mrs. Kleppman's smile was almost as big as mine when I pointed out the ones I wanted for him. Spot looked thoughtful that night on the way home.

"What?" I asked.

"You won't be working over time anymore." He said as if that explained everything.

"So?"

"So what am I supposed to do Monday mornings?"

I smirked slightly. "Go harass some other hard working girl?"

He didn't speak after that and neither did I.

The day the shoes arrived was a couple of days after my presents for the girls had arrived. Chava had eagerly helped me wrap them and I could tell she was looking forward to watching the girls receive them. I made Chava promise to give them each a big hug and kiss for me. She agreed readily.

When Cricket's shoes came, Spot was the first to know. He inspected them for a few seconds. I had chosen the practical kind, ones that would give him a bit of room to grow into and yet were comfortable enough to use now. Spot could find anything bad to say about them, so I assumed that meant I could go ahead and give them to the kid. Spot brought him over during closing time.

"These are for you," I said as I handed him the shoes. "Because you need them."

Cricket took the shoes slowly. His face didn't light up the way I thought it would. I glanced at Spot. He was giving me an "I-told-you-so" look. I frowned.

"Do you like them?" I asked nervously.

Cricket nodded slowly. I sighed inwardly.

"These are not charity." I stated. "You know that right?"

Cricket looked up at me in surprise. Apparently he had not known that. He looked at me in slight befuddlement. I realized I had some explaining to do.

"You can't possibly work in the shoes you're wearing now. Do you want your feet to fall off the end of your legs? Now take those shoes and I don't want to hear any arguments. These are a gift from me and if you must know, Spot helped pay for them too."

Cricket jerked in surprise and glanced at Spot. Spot looked like he wouldn't have minded if I had left out that last bit of information. However, Cricket looked much happier now. In fact he shocked me by flinging his arms around me in a brief, but tight, hug.

After putting on the new shoes, which fit perfectly, Cricket ran off to the lodging house as Spot started walking me home as had become the custom. We did not speak to each other, as was also the custom. However, halfway to Uncle Leo's house Spot decided to say something.

"I haven't seen Cricket that happy in a long time," Spot said thoughtfully.

I shrugged. "I wouldn't think so. I'm not sure why anyone would be happy living on the streets."

"Some kids are runaways; they seem to like it fine."

"Don't they care about their families? Don't they think they might be missed by the ones that care about them? Don't they ever think about coming home for at least a little while?" My throat was constricting and tears came to my eyes. I tried to hide my face from Spot's but he had noticed.

"Are we talking about the newsies? or your brother now?" He asked.

I swiped at my cheeks. "Neither." I muttered, ashamed that this was the second time I had let myself cry in front of Spot. Spot didn't seem to believe me but we were at Uncle Leo's house now and he could not ask anything else.

I did not say goodbye, we never did, and I saw him walking away as I closed the door. Again that look at entered his eyes. When he had said the word "brother" I had seen it. What did he know about Tommy? Had Chava mentioned it? I realized I would have to bring it up with Spot. I had to. If Spot knew something about my brother I had to know.

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	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Hey look everyone! Another chapter in only three days! Isn't that cool? Isn't that awesome? Isn't that magnificent? Oh stop it, stop it! You're making me blush, really.**

**Disclaimer:** _I do not own _Newsies_, I do not own Disney, I do not own my mother, blah, blah, blah, etc._

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**Chapter 6**

Wednesday of the next week was my birthday, and ironically the eight year anniversary of Tommy's departure. I was sixteen now, and I did not feel a week older. We could never afford to have big birthdays at the tenet house, so I wasn't expecting much. In fact it seemed like Uncle Leo had forgotten about my birthday. No one wished me "Happy birthday" as I passed by on my way to work. Mrs. Kleppman didn't know when my birthday was, and I didn't even get one visitor.

I refused to let my disappointment at this memory loss of my close friends interfere with my work. However, seeing Spot in his usual place after I was done spurred my annoyance.

"Look, I am perfectly capable to walk myself home. Nothing has ever happened for the past month and a half, and you're really getting on my nerves. I've been walking by myself around the streets for years running errands and I do not need a babysitter."

Spot simply blinked at me. My breath was coming out in great gusts after my tirade. I spun around on my heel and stalked off. To my great exasperation, he followed.

"Someone's not in a good mood today. What's up?"

I shot him a look full of vehemence. "None of your business."

He shrugged but kept walking beside me. After a few moments of stony silence I could not keep quiet any longer. I knew he would probably laugh at me (or worse, smirk), but I had to tell someone."

"It's my birthday and everyone seems to have forgotten. Stupid, huh?" I asked, glancing sidelong at him.

He didn't seem to have heard me. I mentally kicked myself for even mentioning it and for a while we walked in silence. Then Spot spoke, causing me to jump slightly.

"What kind of present do you want?"

My thoughts immediately went to Tommy, but I knew seeing him was impossible. Again I regretted bringing up the subject. I knew I had to speak to Spot about my brother, but now didn't really seem like the right time. Thinking quickly I turned the question back onto him.

"What kind of present would_ you_ want?"

Spot smirked slightly. "A porcelain tub with boiling water."

My eyebrows rose in surprise. "Really? That's it?"

Spot shrugged. "It's a luxury a newsie can't really afford. Haven't had a good bath in a long time."

I scrunched up my nose. "I can tell," I said, taking in his slightly grimy skin which I hadn't really noticed before. He wasn't squeaky clean, but he was a newsie, what was I expecting. I looked thoughtful.

"You know, I think I can help you with that. Seeing as you spend so much time helping me," here I couldn't help but sound somewhat sarcastic.

Spot just blinked at me. Then one eyebrow rose slightly. "How do you plan to do that?"

I grinned slightly. We had reached the house and I stepped up on the third step then turned to look down at Spot. "Come inside. The guest bathroom on the third floor has a porcelain tub that you can't believe."

Spot hesitated. I couldn't see his expression for his hat was pulled low and the twilight obscured his face with the shadows. Before he could answer I grew impatient and marched down to him. Grabbing his wrist, I dragged him up the steps behind me and pushed him through the large doors. Calling to the butler, Albert, that I was home and had brought someone along, I continued to pull Spot up the stairs and to the bathroom on the third floor. Letting him go I called to Daisy, who was the maid for the third floor.

"Run a bath for Mr. Conlon here," I told her with a small smirk. "Make sure it's with boiling water."

She looked over Spot distastefully before brushing by and starting the water. I nodded at Spot.

"See you downstairs."

Spot still looked slightly dazed when I left. I don't think he ever imagined his wish coming true. I was sniggering into my hand when I approached the gold room where I had first met Uncle Leo. I opened the door and noticed the light was off.

"Uncle Leo?" I called, wondering if he had fallen asleep.

Suddenly the light turned on and I was surrounded by people. Most of them I didn't recognize, but I saw Chava, Aaron, and Uncle Leo among them. My jaw dropped slightly as they all shouted in unison, "Happy birthday!"

Everyone was dressed elegantly. Even Aaron and Chava were wearing their best. I looked down at my work skirt and blouse and felt my cheeks redden. Chava didn't seem to notice my discomfort. She rushed to me and hugged me tightly around my neck. I had to laugh delightedly.

"I bet you thought we all forgot huh?" She asked, her dark eyes twinkling.

I smiled sheepishly. "Well, yeah."

"Minnie and the girls send their love. Mary is much better, by the way. Come on let's get you out of those clothes and into something more fashionable. The party's really in the ballroom, we just knew you would go to the Gold Room first."

"Who are all those people?" I asked as we climbed the stairs.

"Friends of your uncle's and your mother's."

I started in surprise. "My mother's friends?"

She nodded. "And there's a few aunts, uncles, and cousins too. You have the most adorable second cousin. His name is Massimo and he has the most amazing eyes. Oh and his hair is magnificent."

I laughed. "And how old is this second cousin of mine?"

"Mmmm, about twenty. But age doesn't matter when you're in love."

I laughed harder. We entered my room and it was Chava's turn to go slack-jawed.

"This is your room?" She squealed, running for the bed.

I watched her jump on my bed with an amused expression. After a few minutes of this I walked over to my armoire and opened it wide, staring at the few dresses I had. There was the one I wore to church, and one that I wore when Uncle Leo had invited some of his business friends over for poker. Then there was one dress which I had never worn. Uncle Leo had bought it for me in case I was ever invited to a party, although I had assured him that would never happen.

It was a dark, rich blue that made my eyes look wider. I pulled it on and Chava fixed my hair into an elegant twist. A simple silver necklace was on my dresser with a note from Uncle Leo saying it was my birthday present. I smile as I put it on. Then I put silver droplet earring on and surveyed myself in the mirror. The blue dress had designs embroidered on it with silver thread so the jewelry matched perfectly.

Chava came up behind me and grinned. "Aaron's not going to be able to get his eyes off you." She said cheekily.

I rolled my eyes but noticed my cheeks turn slightly pink. "Chava, I told you before. There can never be anything between me and Aaron."

Chava just smirked. "Whatever you say Mags, let's get downstairs."

Pulling on blue velvet slippers, I followed Chava downstairs. The ballroom was reserved only for special occasions. It was filled with people, all of whom I didn't recognize. Most of them looked similar and I supposed they were my relatives. A very handsome young man detached himself from the group and approached us. From the way Chava grabbed my arm I assumed this was the adorable Massimo.

"Good evening," he said in a deep voice, bowing slightly. His dark eyes rested on Chava for a moment before transferring to me. "My cousin Margaret, I presume?" He asked.

I nodded, smiling in what I hoped was a friendly manner. "Yes, that's right. Massimo, right?"

He looked pleased that I knew his name. "Ah! Uncle Leonardo has mentioned me to you."

I blushed slightly. "Actually no, my friend mentioned she met you earlier."

"Ah." His pleased expression faded but his eyes twinkled. He glanced again at Chava.

"Would you mind if I asked your friend to a dance?" He asked.

I glanced at Chava who was gazing up at Massimo with great admiration. I shrugged. "Sure."

Chava gave a soft squeal and took Massimo's offered arm. I smiled slightly at the couple before moving over to the table that contained the beverages. Aaron met me there. His eyes roamed my outfit briefly before his lips curled into a small smile.

"You look beautiful," he said.

I rolled my eyes. "And I'm sure I'll hear that a million times before this night is over. You know how older people are. Especially older people who are related to you."

Aaron chuckled softly. His eyes never left my face. For some reason this made me feel vaguely uncomfortable. I averted my eyes to the ground. I felt his hand on my arm. I jumped slightly.

"Dance with me?" He asked, his voice soft.

I looked up into those intense dark eyes and felt a shiver run through me. I nodded before I could really think of what I was doing. He led me out into the middle of the ballroom where several other couples were dancing. An orchestra had apparently been hired by Uncle Leo and before I knew what was happening, I was being swept away to the sound of violins and harps.

I was not used to dancing. Along with a tutor to help me along with my education, Uncle Leo had also given me a dance instructor. I had only been taking lessons for a few weeks, but I had never been confident about it. And dancing with Aaron was much different than dancing with stuffy old Mr. Longman. However, his encouraging smile spurred me on and I danced to the best of my ability.

When we finished, I was slightly out of breath but proud of myself. Just then I heard the sound of someone clearing his throat. I turned and found myself looking straight into Spot's hazel eyes. My heart leapt to my throat in horror. I had forgotten all about him.

He wasn't wearing his cap and his hair hung over his forehead in tuffs, still slightly damp. He was wearing the newsie clothes he had before but they were clean and pressed and he looked very handsome. I bit my lip nervously. I could not read his expression.

"Daisy gave me this suit and invited me to the party, since apparently you forgot to." His tone was slightly cold.

"I didn't know Spot, honest!" I cried. "It was a surprise."

"Why didn't you come and tell me after you found out? I've been out for at least thirty minutes." I thought I heard the slightest trace of hurt lace his words.

I looked down at the ground, ashamed of my forgetfulness. I had offered him his wish as a thank you, but as soon as my real friends showed up, he had completely vanished from my memory.

"I'm sorry Spot," I whispered.

An uncomfortable silence fell between us. Aaron cleared his throat. I jumped slightly.

"Who's this?" He asked, frowning down at Spot.

"Aaron, this is Spot Conlon. Spot, this is Aaron." I introduced them, still not meeting Spot's gaze.

The boys shook hands and I noticed they gripped each other a little tighter than necessary.

"How did you meet him?" Aaron asked.

"I helped her out after her father kicked her out." Spot said casually, as if he didn't really care.

Aaron glanced at me but I couldn't look at him either. Another uncomfortable silence engulfed us. I shuffled my feet nervously. Looking up I caught Aaron's eye, silently pleading that he would please leave so I could talk to Spot alone. Thankfully Aaron understood. Giving Spot a curt nod he moved away. I faced Spot with great trepidation.

"Listen Spot—" before I could finish he surprised me by holding out his hand.

"Want to dance?" He asked, smirking slightly.

I raised an eyebrow. "Do you even know how?"

"You'll find there's a lot more that I know besides selling papes." He said, his smirk widening into what almost looked like a genuine smile.

I surprised myself by smiling back. Taking his hand I let him lead me onto the dance floor. I felt his finger's twitch slightly as he placed them around my waist. I laid my hand on his shoulder. Gripping my other hand tightly, he started forward. Elderly people in elegant clothing looked at Spot's attire with something akin to displeasure but kept their whisperings to themselves. I ignored them and concentrated on dancing.

I suddenly found myself pleasantly surprised. Spot did dance well. Sure we stumbled here and there, but he far exceeded my expectations. It felt different, being in Spot's arms than it was in Aaron's. Aaron had this impressive, almost ominous, way about him. He reminded me of a Rottweiler. Dangerous yet loyal to those he cared about. Spot reminded me more of a . . . come to think of it, I couldn't figure out what Spot reminded me of. He was too convoluted for anything I could think of.

We dance for two songs. His face was always so close to mine. I could feel his breath on my face. The entire time we were dancing however, he never looked me in the eye. I was biting the inside of my lip during the second dance, wondering when he would speak. He never did. Finally he pulled me aside.

"Is there a place where we can talk," he asked, "alone?"

I thought for a moment. Then I smiled. "There's a balcony you can get to from the attic. I found it when I was exploring one day, it's got an incredible view."

I took his wrist and weaved my way through the crowd. Climbing the stairs I let go of Spot when I was sure he was following. Up and up and up we went to the very top floor. The attic was musty and full of cobwebs but I didn't mind. I went straight to the double doors and pushed them open. Contrary to the filthy attic, the balcony was clean swept and there were a couple of small chairs and a table set up on one side. I walked over to the railing of the balcony and leaned on it, looking off over the horizon.

You could see the Brooklyn Bridge from the balcony. Stretching far across the river, it was a magnificent sight. Looking the other way I could spot our tenet house. My face fell slightly and I sighed. Spot joined me.

"Thanks for letting me use your porcelain tub," he said, looking out towards the Bridge.

I smiled faintly. "You enjoyed it then?"

He nodded, his gaze still far away. A few seconds of silence followed. This time however, it wasn't uncomfortable.

"Is that Aaron your boyfriend?" Spot asked after a while.

I laughed a bit harshly. "No, no he's not."

Spot looked doubtful. "He thinks he is." He said bluntly.

I frowned. "I told him a long time ago that it could not work out between us." I snapped a bit angrily. "He has to learn to accept that."

Spot didn't answer. I was regretting my harsh words but the newsie beside me didn't seem to care. He did not speak and neither did I. We simply stood there for another few minutes, not speak, staring off in different directions. A long while passed. The sky was black and full of stars. It reminded me of the night I traveled to Uncle Leo's mansion after meeting Aaron in Manhattan.

"I know where your brother is," Spot's gruff voice cut through the silence like a knife and cut through my heart as well. It leaped to my throat as I whipped around to stare at him, slack-jawed.

"What?" I whispered, unable to believe him.

Spot slowly turned to face me, still leaning one arm against the rail. "You're brother. I know where he is. Know him personally too."

Heedless of my beautiful new dress, I sank to the floor, dumbfounded. Spot knelt next to me, peering into my face with an expression I could not read.

"How long have you known he was my brother?" I said softly, still not trusting my ears.

"Ever since I heard your surname. Margaret Meyers. And then when I saw your little sister Mary that confirmed it. She's the spitting image of Mush Meyers, one of the Manhattan newsies."

"Mush . . ." So my theory had been correct. "Mary looks like Mama," I commented for no reason. "Tommy was the only one who looked like her before . . ."

Spot was watching me closely. Tears gathered in my eyes. "When can I see him? Will you take me?"

"I can't leave my turf," Spot said. He hurried on before I could protest, "But I can send Cricket with you. He likes you."

I managed a small smile. A million questions were whirring in my head. Why had Spot waited so long to tell me? If Tommy was alive and well why hadn't he come home? Aaron worked at that restaurant that those newsies were always eating at, how come he never recognized him as the spitting image of Mary and Mama?

I leaned my head back against the railing, staring up at the sky, the tears finally trickling down my cheeks. I jumped slightly as a hand reached over and roughly brushed them away. I looked at Spot and frowned faintly. Then I sighed.

"Thank you, Spot, for telling me." Leaning over I kissed him on the cheek.

The look of pleasant surprise on his face made me laugh. There was a pause and then he laughed slightly as well. Then his expression changed the one I did not recognize. A lump grew in my throat as he leaned forward slowly. I froze, not knowing what to do. It looked like he was about to kiss me. Did I want him to kiss me? What about Aaron? Why was I even thinking about Aaron? Why did Spot want to kiss me? Did he like me? I was under the impression that he didn't.

I tensed up, waiting for contact. Instead I heard a voice in my ear whisper,

"Meet me and Cricket in front of this house on Saturday, and we'll take you to Manhattan." He said.

I was feeling incredibly stupid for thinking he was about to kiss me. I then started wondering why he was bothering to whisper. Then I heard the footsteps nearing the double doors. Spot stood and helped me up quickly. We put our backs to the railing and instantly started talking about something which I can't remember.

Aaron stood in the doorway, looking at us with a somewhat brooding expression on his dark face.

"Your Uncle wants you to come down and meet your relatives." He glanced at Spot. "He can come too if he wants."

I looked at Spot. He shrugged, and suddenly his gold tipped walking stick was in his hand and he was strutting past Aaron to the door on the other side of the attic. I followed, swallowing a smile. Aaron shut the doors and stepped up to walk beside me.

He was silent while Spot and I met the relatives. A lot of the older ones mistook Spot for Tommy and commented on how tall he had grown. A few young twenties wanted to know if we were dating, and the middle aged ones looked disapprovingly at his apparel. My smile was fixed by the time I got to the last relative. I knew Spot was sniggering at me behind my back. I kept hearing these coughs that sounded suspiciously like snorts of laughter.

It was a long night. Finally everyone left. Chava and Aaron were the second to last to leave. Chava hugged me tightly, told Spot she was glad to have met him and then almost dragged her brother out the door before he could say more than, "Goodbye."

Spot and I looked at each other for a moment before cracking up into hysterical laughter. Albert looked reproachfully at us as he passed. We were laughing too hard to notice. After a while we stopped to breathe.

"I hope I never have a birthday like that again," I gasped.

"You must have at least a thousand relatives." Spot said, coming together much quicker than I.

"I'm guessing that's because this is the Italian side. Notice how they were all talking loudly and with their hands? Italian."

"I thought some of those ladies were going to explode and start scolding me about my clothes."

"And I think some of my girl cousins were jealous," I said, winking humorously.

Spot grinned. I calmed down enough to look at him seriously.

"You promise what you said earlier? About Cricket taking me to see Tommy on Saturday?"

Spot nodded, his face suddenly solemn. "I give my word."

I nodded back. Flinging my arms around him I threw him off balance with a tight hug. I felt him hesitate before awkwardly patting my back twice. I pulled away quickly. I could tell he was slightly embarrassed. My cheeks grew red.

"Thank you Spot," I said sincerely. "I really appreciate it."

He smiled a genuine smile. "No problem, Margaret."

I shook my head. "Maggie. My name is Maggie."

His smile widened. He bowed just like he did when we met in the center of Brooklyn.

"It's nice to meet you Miss Maggie."

I giggled and then curtseyed. "The pleasure is mine, Mr. Conlon."

Unexpectedly Spot suddenly grabbed my arm and pressed his mouth against mine. Fireworks went off in my head and my heart leaped out of my chest. It only lasted a few seconds, and when I opened my eyes Spot was gone and the door was closing shut. I stood there stunned. It felt like hours had gone by before Uncle Leo rolled into the atrium.

"Girl, are you feeling all right?" He asked, looking at me shrewdly.

I jumped slightly. "Yes Uncle, I'm perfectly perfect. How are you?"

His eyes twinkled and I knew he knew what had just happened. He had probably been hiding just on the other side of the hall. . . . I blushed and gave him a hurried goodnight before bounding up the stairs.

After getting out of my dress and taking a hot bath, I sat in my room, staring unseeingly at the ceiling. So much had happened in the last twelve hours. I had turned sixteen, I had met long lost relatives, I had discovered that my brother was, in fact, alive and well, and Spot had kissed me. My hand went unconsciously to my lips. It had been spontaneous and wonderful. I could feel my cheeks heat up. Did this mean Spot Conlon liked me? Did this mean I liked Spot Conlon?

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	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: **(sung to "We're Going to Kentucky, We're Going to the Fair")**  
**_I do not own the Newsies,  
I do not own Spot Conlon,  
Now please don't rub it in now,  
Cuz you'll set me to bawlin'!_

**

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**Chapter 7**

Saturday could not come fast enough. I worked diligently at the shop. I also asked Mrs. Kleppman if I could have Saturday off and she said that because I had worked so hard these past five weeks, I could indeed. And then she gave me a new hat for my birthday.

My best birthday present however, was seeing the girls. Chava had smuggled them all out of the tenet house while Papa was at work and we met down the street behind a bakery. Minnie, Rose, Anna, Florence, and Mary flung their arms around me in a great group hug and I made sure to hold and kiss each triplet in turn. They had a lot to tell me about what was going on while I was away. Papa apparently sometimes seemed to regret his decision to send me away, but whenever Minnie hinted at when I might be able to return, Papa's face became like stone and he would not answer.

Taking Minnie aside before they had to leave, I told her about Tommy. She did not remember him, of course, being only three years old when he left, but she listened with eager eyes when I told her that bringing Tommy home might make things all better for us and I would be able to return to the tenet house.

My heart ached to see them go. Giving them each one last hug and kiss on the forehead, I watched as Chava led them back. Mary gave me a wave just before they entered the building. I went back to Uncle Leo's mansion with tears streaming down my cheeks.

When I met Spot and Cricket on Saturday, my heart gave a little flutter. I had not forgotten the kiss Spot had given me on Wednesday, but strangely enough it seemed like he had. He gave no indication that he had even been at Uncle Leo's house. Mentioning nothing of the party or of the kiss, he turned to Cricket and issued his instructions.

"Take Meyers here to Jacky-boy. She'll be able to tell him what she wants."

_Meyers_? Since when had Spot started calling me Meyers? Before I could ask however, Cricket had started pulling my skirt. I followed him but not without one last glance back at Spot. I was hoping to meet his eye, but he had already turned away and was walking back up the street. I faced forward again, thinking.

Was Spot embarrassed about what had happened at the party? He was a pompous jerk most of the time. . . . Did something happen to bruise his ego? I watched Cricket walking beside me thoughtfully. Suddenly I had a thought.

"Hey Cricket, if you can't talk, how do you . . . you know, sell papers?"

I was genuinely curious about this, but I was afraid I had insulted him when he did not look at me for a few seconds. Then he held up his arm like he was holding a newspaper and looked at me with such a mournful expression on his face I felt the urge to give him a big hug. Instead I laughed.

"I think I understand your strategy." I said, smiling down at him.

His face broke into a wide grin. He stuck his hands into his pockets and started whistling. My smile grew as I listened to the now familiar insect quality of his whistling. After a few seemingly made up tunes, he started one I knew well. Before I knew it I had opened my mouth and started singing along. Cricket looked surprised but kept whistling, struggling not to smile.

The walk seemed to take longer this time than it did before. Maybe it was because I was anticipating the end more earnestly.

"Are we there yet?" I asked, not caring that I sounded like an impatient child.

Cricket grinned and pointed to the large bridge in front of us. We had to cross it first before we arrived in Manhattan. I gave a hefty sigh. Cricket started whistling again but this time I didn't sing along. I was trying to figure out what to say when I saw Mu—Tommy. First off was what to call him. Every newsie called him Mush now. Should I call him that as well? He would always be Tommy in my mind, so should I just stick with that?

And how was I going to confront him? I had spent eight years wishing for him to come back. Why hadn't he? What did he have with the Manhattan newsies that prevented him from coming home? Surely he had found the "adventure" he had been looking for at age ten. So why couldn't he have been satisfied with it and come home?

We finally made it over to Manhattan. Cricket took the lead and led me to Tibby's Restaurant. No newsboys were there however, so we turned around and Cricket headed for this place called Irving Hall. I had never been there before. It was about two o' clock in the afternoon and there was no show performing. No newsies were there either. I could tell Cricket was getting frustrated. We left that place and headed for that large statue in the middle of the town.

We stood next to it for a few minutes, trying to gather our thoughts. Suddenly Cricket's face lit up and he rushed to a boy who was coming down the street. He had a cigar in his mouth and looked vaguely familiar. I wondered if he had been in the group that rescued me from those thugs in the alleyway.

"Hey there Cricket," the newsie said, ruffling the boy's hair. "Whatcha doing this side of New York?"

Cricket pointed to me then to his head, making the shape of a cowboy hat above it. The newsie seemed to understand more than me.

"She wants to talk to Jack? Well then, come right this way."

Cricket gestured to me and I hurried over. The newsie tipped his cap and held out his hand.

"Racetrack, miss, at your service."

I smiled and shook his hand. "Maggie Meyers."

Racetrack's expression echoed the one Jack Kelly had when I mentioned my name.

"Meyers?" He asked curiously.

I nodded. "That's right."

He gave a short laugh. "That's funny," he mused. "He never mentioned he had a sister."

I started. "How could you possibly know who I am?"

"Well, you want to see Jack, you're here with a Brooklyn newsie, your last name is Meyers, and last time you were here, Jack said you ran after Mush which is why you got caught in the alley. It doesn't take a lot of brains to see that you're Mush's sis. I'd bet money on it."

I flushed slightly. "Do you know where Mush is?"

Racetrack shook his head. "Nope. But if you come with me I know a place where we can wait for him."

I looked down at Cricket. The boy shrugged. I looked back at Racetrack and echoed Cricket's shoulder movement. Racetrack grinned and began walking. I risked a question.

"How long have you known Mush?" I asked.

Racetrack shrugged. "About five or six years. Jack's the one who's known him longest. About eight years I think."

I was silent. Was this the reason Tommy hadn't returned? Because he didn't want to leave his new friends? I shook off my questions since I knew Racetrack wouldn't be able to answer them, and focused on where we were going. We reached a building which sign said "Newsboy's Lodging House." I followed Racetrack and Cricket up the steps into the front room. There were a few tables at which several boys were sitting, playing poker or just smoking. I coughed lightly at the smoke in the room. Racetrack led me to a table.

"Sit right here and I'll get Jack."

I sat down and Cricket clambered into the seat next to me. I noticed some playing cards and chips sitting on the table and a slow smile crept up my lips.

"Hey Cricket, know how to play poker?" I asked, indicating the cards with a finger.

Cricket nodded with a gleam in his eye. I picked up the cards and shuffled them neatly. Dealing them out along with the chips I settled down to play. My first hand wasn't very good. Thankfully playing with Uncle Leo as much as I have, my poker face has improved. However I folded quickly after the first two cards. Cricket grinned at me. My next hand was much better and I won that round. By this time Racetrack came back. He watched us play for a while before jumping in heartily. Instantly I knew Cricket and I were in for a challenge.

Racetrack quickly won the next four rounds. I was having too much fun to care. Racetrack was full of wisecracks that kept me and Cricket in stitches. I was sure he was using our distracted state to cheat but I don't think Cricket minded. I sure didn't.

I was in mid-laugh when he came in. I recognized him immediately even though I was across the room. My breath caught in a hiss. Cricket and Racetrack turned to see what I was staring at. He was talking to the kid with the patch and hadn't looked around the room yet. I didn't wait for him too. I leaped out of my chair and ran towards him. He didn't notice me until I stopped directly in front of him. My breath left me as I looked up into his brown eyes. Mary's eyes. Mama's eyes.

They looked confused for a moment and I knew he didn't recognize me. I didn't let that stop me.

"Tommy," I breathed.

Something flickered in his eyes. His jaw dropped and I knew then that he knew me.

"Maggie?" His voice caught. "How—?"

I cut him off by flinging my arms around him in a tight hug. He held me close to him. It was only when I noticed that his shirt was wet that I realized I was crying.

When we pulled apart I saw that we had gathered a crowd. Boys were watching us curiously. Tommy didn't seem to notice. His eyes were fixed on me.

"How did you get here?" Was his first question.

"Cricket from Brooklyn brought me. Spot Conlon told me about you."

"Spot? You know Spot?"

"I do now."

Tommy grinned. "What do you know about that? How's the family? How are you doing?"

"Hey Mush!" A newsie called. "Who's your lady friend?"

"Yeah, isn't that the dame we saved in the alley?" The kid with the patch asked.

Tommy looked around at the other newsboys as if he just now saw them.

"Oh, boys this is my sister Maggie."

"Your sister?" Mouths dropped. "How come you didn't say nothing, Mush?"

I flushed. "You didn't tell them about us Tommy?"

Tommy had the decency to look sheepish. "Well, where we come from isn't something we talk about much."

I took his sleeve. "Can we talk somewhere private?" I asked softly.

Tommy looked around at the many faces staring at us then nodded. Grabbing my hand he led me out the door. We stood to the side of the door and looked at each other for a moment. Then I jumped on his neck once more and held him close. He responded willingly. I could feel his cheek on the top of my head and his hand stroking my braid. He tugged on it gently and I stepped back.

"Papa was very angry when you left," I said softly. "He was even angrier when you didn't show up for the funeral."

Tommy's smile faded. "What funeral?" He asked, his eyes betraying his confusion.

I frowned. "What do you mean? The funeral. Mama's funeral."

Tommy looked like someone had slapped him in the face. "Mama's . . . dead?" He asked in a choked voice.

I was starting to get frustrated. "Of course she is! She died a year and a half ago. How could you not know that? Her obituary was in _The World_. Don't you read the paper you sell?"

Tommy stepped back. "Maggie, I—"

"And that's another thing," I interrupted, finally letting out all my questions. "How could you be here hanging with all your newsboy buddies and never think to write, never think to contact us? Mama cried for _days_ after you left. I thought you were dead." My voice cracked. "Didn't you care? Didn't you realize when you didn't come back we would assume the worst? Why did you leave? Why didn't you come back?"

I was crying by now, and this time the tears were not tears of happiness. Tommy looked stunned. I waited for him to speak. To say something, anything that would explain why he avoided us all these years. He didn't seem to be coming up with anything. I turned away, burying my face in my hands, unable to look at him. When he still didn't say anything, I dried my eyes and turned back.

"You know Tommy I don't see how I could have idolized you all those years back. You're pathetic."

I turned sharply and started walking away. Tommy called after me but I didn't turn. I was too disappointed to do anything but walk home. That had not ended the way I had planned. I waited for him to come after me. I waited to feel his hand on my shoulder stopping me. He did not. When I looked back he was gone from the front of the Lodging House. I jerked my head forward again. He was no longer the Tommy I remembered.

I was halfway to the Bridge when I felt a small hand slip into mine. I looked down in surprise to see Cricket standing next to me. He smiled up at me sympathetically. I squeezed his palm gratefully. I did not speak however, and the road home was silent.

It was growing dark when we reached the edges of Brooklyn. I was just about to tell Cricket that I could make it back on my own when four dark shapes detached themselves from the shadows of a tall building. I stepped back in apprehension, gripping Cricket's hand tighter. As the leader of the four stepped into the fading light I recognized him as the boy who attacked me. I pushed Cricket behind me.

"Well, well, well, look what we have here," the leader said in a mocking tone. "It's the pretty little lady from the alleyway. No newsies to defend you out here is there?"

Cricket jumped out from behind me and held up his fists. The leader and his followers laughed scornfully.

"Aw, does the little boy want to play?" The leader sneered. He pushed Cricket roughly to the side.

I cried out as he hit the ground hard. I rushed forward but the leader caught me. I struggled in his grasp, trying to kick his shins. He just laughed at my efforts. Cricket stood and jumped on the leader's back from behind, clinging to his neck. He dropped me as the others rushed in to pry Cricket off of their chief. One boy, a large, stupid looking one, grabbed me and pulled me to my feet. His meaty hand caressed my face but I slapped it away. I then tried to get around him to help Cricket who had three of the boys beating on him.

I could barely see him from underneath all the bodies. I screamed for him at the top of my lungs. The leader detangled himself from the group on the ground and came at me. He grabbed me roughly and shouted at the large one to join the rest.

"That brat tried to strangle me!" He yelled, his voice hoarse. "Kill him!"

"NO!" I shouted, struggling, kicking, trying to get to Cricket.

I could hear his cries now, small pitiful noises underneath the grunts and shouts. It broke my heart and tears coursed down my cheeks.

"Let him go!" I screamed. "Let him go!"

The leader just held me tighter. "You want to play hard to get?" He snarled. "So be it."

He turned me around and kissed me hard on the mouth. I resisted violently. My fingernails scrapped his cheek drawing blood. He pulled away and backhanded me across the face. He tried to get another kiss, this time I was ready for him. I punched him in the mouth as hard as I could. This time he gave me two backhands. I could feel my cheek start to swell. A trickle of blood ran down my face from a cut on my cheekbone. Again he tried to kiss me, holding my arms tightly to my sides. I kneed him in the groin. He hit me again and again and again. I fell to the ground and he kicked me a while.

Finally he called to his posse.

"These two ain't worth the effort," he said, spitting blood onto my cheek. "Let's get out of here."

They ran away into the night, laughing cruelly. I wiped the blood from my face and sat up slowly, my ribs cried out in protest. I ignored them, looking around for Cricket. He was laying a few feet from me, still as death. Even in the gathering darkness I could see his pale face, his eyes were closed, and his chest didn't seem to be moving. I stifled a sob and crawled over to him. He looked so tiny. I leaned over and placed my cheek right above his nose and mouth. The smallest of breaths tickled my face. I chocked back a cry of relief. He was alive . . . barely, but still breathing.

I buried my face in his small chest, tears stinging the open wounds on my face. I didn't know what to do. I could feel myself losing consciousness. I shook the blackness off. This couldn't happen; I had to get Cricket to safety.

I stood slowly, doubling over from the pain in my ribs. I stooped and carefully lifted Cricket into my arms. One arm under his knees, the other across his back, I started to walk. I could only manage a few steps at a time. Every inch of me cried out to give up. I stubbornly refused to give in. One look at Cricket's white, blood covered face told me all I needed to know about his condition. Cricket would die if I didn't get him help.

I stumbled over the hem of my skirt. I twisted to look down at it. A hunk of it had torn and was hanging around my ankles and feet. I didn't have time to try to get rid of it. After what seemed like hours and decades, I could see Uncle Leo's house in the distance. I entered the neighborhood with dragging feet. I finally reached the front steps. I couldn't walk any further. Setting Cricket down carefully, I crawled to the front door. Pulling myself up by the knocker, I lifted and let it fall. I lifted again and dropped. Lift, drop. I couldn't wait any longer. I collapsed on the ground. Crawling back to Cricket I placed an arm around him, shielding him from any further damage that might occur. I then slipped into unconsciousness.


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer:** _I do not own _Newsies_. If I did, Spot Conlon would have a solo._

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**Chapter 8**

The first thing that registered through my dull senses was a cool hand being placed upon my forehead. I cracked my eyes open slightly and saw a dark-haired figure sitting on my bed.

"Tommy?" I whispered through cracked lips.

The figure shook its head. "No Maggie, Tommy isn't here."

The voice sounded familiar. I forced my eyes to open wider.

"Aaron?" I asked, confused. "What are you doing here?"

"Chava told me you were not well. I came to see you. How are you feeling?"

"Like I've been run over by a train," I muttered.

Last night's events suddenly flooded my mind and my chest burned. I sat up quickly.

"Cricket!" I cried before sinking back into the pillows behind me, moaning over the sharp pain in my ribs.

Aaron shook his head. "The doctor is with your friend now. You need to stay in bed. You suffered a few broken ribs and your face is pretty battered. Do you want to tell me what happened? Chava couldn't figure out your incessant mumblings while you were unconscious."

"How long was I out?"

"A couple of days. You're truly blessed that Albert found you when he did. That little boy was close to death."

I opened my mouth to ask how he was now, but before I could say anything, Chava burst into my room.

"You're awake!" She shrieked, running over to hug me.

"Ow!" I cried as she came in contact with my aching side. She got up quickly.

"Sorry," she said. She settled down next to her brother. "So . . . what happened?"

I sighed. "I got jumped, me and Cricket. Some boys tried to force themselves on me and I resisted. Cricket almost strangled the leader so they were going to kill him." I passed a hand wearily over my eyes.

Chava patted my arm. "There, there. You're alright now."

"What about Cricket?" I mumbled.

Aaron and Chava didn't answer. I struggled to sit up.

"I'm going to go check on him." I said, swinging my legs painfully over the side of the bed. Chava and Aaron rushed to stop me. I waved them aside. "I have to go see him. It's my fault he's like this."

Chava shook her head. "How could it be your fault?"

I sighed. "I went to see Tommy the night we were attacked. We had a bit of a disagreement. If I hadn't left so soon those boys probably wouldn't have been there."

Chava was staring at me slack-jawed. "You saw Tommy? Tommy's alive? Is he okay? How did you find him?"

I realized Chava didn't know about Spot telling me about Tommy.

"Spot Conlon told me that Tommy was a part of the Manhattan newsies. So on Saturday Cricket took me to see him. He'd been a part of the newsies for eight years." I turned to look Aaron in the eye. "They like to go to Tibby's Restaurant."

His face remained mildly interested but something flickered in his eyes. Was it guilt? Satisfaction? I sighed inwardly. It was almost as hard to read Aaron as it was to read Spot sometimes. I decided to cut to the chase.

"Aaron, how come you never told me that Tommy was alive and well and living as a Manhattan newsie under the alias of Mush?"

I glowered at him, daring him to contradict me, trying to make him sweat. To my surprise Aaron answered readily and indifferently.

"He told me not to tell you. I recognized him as soon as I saw him for a Meyers, but he made me promise not to tell you."

My mouth dropped slightly. "Why?" I asked, the fight gone from my voice.

Aaron shrugged. "He didn't tell me."

I frowned, chewing on my bottom lip. Why wouldn't Tommy want Aaron to tell us about him? It didn't make any sense to me. Didn't Tommy want to be with me, with us? I rubbed my forehead and winced when my palm came in contact with my swollen cheek. Then I remembered Cricket. Getting the rest of the way out of bed I ignored Chava and Aaron's protests and made my way into the next room. A man in a black coat was leaning over a small, still body. I gasped and hurried forward. The doctor heard me and spun around, holding his arms out to stop me.

"No!" he cried. "You're not well; you need to stay in bed."

"But Cricket!" I insisted. "I have to see Cricket!"

"You can see him later, when you're better." But I could see the sadness in his eyes. I struggled to get past him.

"No! I need to see him NOW!"

I pushed past the doctor and ran to Cricket's side. What I saw stopped me in my tracks and I dropped to my knees beside the bed, one hand over my mouth in horror. Cricket entire small form was covered with bandages. He had two black and purple eyes, his lip was swollen half its size, he had a strip of new stitches from his temple down to the middle of his right cheek, and there was a large bruise on the left side of his face. I reached out my hand and just brushed the stitched up cut with my fingertips.

"How bad is he?" I croaked.

The doctor sighed. "He sustained some major injuries. Whoever did this wanted to kill him." There was a pause. "He has quite a few broken ribs, his right arm is broken severely . . . it might need to be amputated. The cut on his face is cleaned up and the bruises will fade in time, but he will always have that scar." He paused again. "If he lives."

I looked up sharply, making my head scream in pain. I ignored it. "What? But those things aren't enough to kill him."

"He received a forceful blow to the head. Until he wakes up I won't know what the exact damage is, but if he doesn't wake up in the next twenty-four hours I'm afraid there's nothing I can do for him. If he relapses into a coma I would give him three days at most before his brain shuts down completely." He looked sadly into my stricken face. "I'm sorry."

I started to cry softly, tears stinging the cut on my cheek. Chava knelt next to me. I gripped her hand.

"Spot has to know," I whispered. I looked up into her brown eyes, also full of tears. "Will you find him for me and tell him to come?"

Chava nodded. "I will. Let's get you back to bed."

I looked over at Cricket's still form and took a deep breath before nodding and letting her lead me away. I was torn up inside. This was all my fault. Cricket might die because I had lost my head talking to Tommy. If I had just stayed, if I had just listened. . . . I let myself be lowered into bed and fell into a restless sleep.

0000000

I woke up with a start. I had had that feeling again. The feeling that someone was staring at me. Sure enough there stood Spot Conlon in the doorway. He was looking at my banged up face with strange expression on his face. Like he was trying to hold back some kind of emotion.

"You got pretty soaked, huh?" He asked, flipping his walking stick up and down.

I nodded, squinting at him. "Did you see Cricket?"

Spot nodded, his grip on his stick tightened. "The doctor say he's going to die?"

I struggled to keep my voice steady. "If he doesn't fall into a coma. Right now he's just unconscious. We'll know tomorrow."

"His arm gotta be amputated?"

"Maybe."

He didn't speak again. His gaze turned to the floor. I took a deep breath.

"I'm sorry, Spot."

His head jerked up and his hazel eyes met my blue ones. He looked slightly confused.

"Sorry for what?"

"For letting Cricket get beaten up so badly. I should have ordered him to go away once I saw those boys. It's all my fault."

Spot looked incredulous. "Cricket got soaked because he was defending a friend. I would have been angry if he _had_ run away. Cricket's a tough kid Maggie, he'll pull through."

"That's not what the doctor said—"

"Forget the doctor! What does he know about Cricket? Nothing! That kid's been through more stuff than that doctor's probably seen in his lifetime. There ain't nothing that can beat Cricket. Nothing."

I watched dumbfounded as Spot's voice cracked. He turned away and wiped his face on his sleeve, trying to hide the fact that a few tears had leaked out. I was too shocked to notice.

"You're really close to Cricket, aren't you?" I asked softly.

Spot stared at the doorpost, his eyes dry, his face impassive.

"He latched onto me after his folks died. He didn't want anyone else. Just me. Don't see why, I could never take care of him. I told him lots of times to go find a nice home someplace, but he won't leave my side. He waits up for me those nights I walk you here."

I was silent. This was a side of Spot Conlon I had never seen before. I opened my mouth to speak but before I could he interrupted me.

"Hope you get better soon, Maggie," he said quickly. "You take good care of Cricket. I'll be back tomorrow to see if he's awake yet. If he asks about me—"

His voice broke again and he left hurriedly. I continued to stare at the place where he had stood. Tears came unbidden into my eyes. I wiped them away slowly before lying back down on my pillow. Someone entered the room. I didn't look over.

"Maggie?"

"Next time you see Tommy tell him." I said clearly.

"Maggie, I'm sorry." Aaron's voice was pleading.

"Just go," I whispered. A tear trickled down my temple and into my ear. I listened as he turned and walked away. Chava came in a few minutes later. She kissed my forehead and said goodbye. I told her to stay with the girls and not visit the next day. She agreed solemnly and then she left me too.

I lay staring at the ceiling for some time. After a while Uncle Leo came rolling into the room. He came up to my side and took my hand.

"So, how was our Tommy?" He asked.

I closed my eyes with inner pain. "He couldn't explain himself. I didn't give him time to. I was so angry with him for not coming back I didn't even give him time to explain." I opened my eyes and looked up into Uncle Leo's compassionate ones. "I think I drove him away. And I have this nagging feeling that this isn't the first time. Why doesn't he want to come back, Uncle? Does he hate me? Does he not love us anymore?"

Tears were coursing down my cheeks unchecked now. I didn't bother to wipe them away. I just looked up at Uncle Leo with wounded eyes, trying to find an answer in their dark depths. He patted my hand.

"There is no way that boy could hate you," he assured me. "You came as a shock to him, that's all. He wasn't expecting you and he sure wasn't expecting an interrogation. I'd say to give the boy another try. What do you say?"

I sighed and nodded. "I will. But first Cricket has to get better."

Uncle Leo's eyes went sad. "Ah yes, the little boy. The doctor told me that he couldn't save the arm."

I closed my eyes in rejection. "Well," I said, trying to be optimistic. "At least he's still alive."

"Yes," Uncle Leo said. I opened my eyes to find him nodding. "He's still alive. How much longer I don't know."

I shook my head. "Spot says he's going to come through and I believe him. There's something about Cricket you just can't kill. He's . . . something precious."

Uncle Leo smiled fondly. "Well, now I know that little boy can't die. Not while he's got the love of such people as you and that Spot Conlon."

I couldn't have put it better myself.

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**Reviews make me feel warm and fuzzy inside. :-P**


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer:**_ I do not own _Newsies_! Why oh why must you always remind me? (Goes to look for her Spot to cry on but then suddenly realizes she doesn't own him either.) Sobs galore!_

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**Chapter 9**

The next day I was feeling better so I went into Cricket's room and just sat by his bed, waiting for when he would wake. I wouldn't leave his side even when Albert suggested that I come down for breakfast. Sitting there, holding his hand, I kept remembering the look on Tommy's face when I bombarded him with all those questions. He looked stunned, afraid, and . . . guilty? I sighed and rubbed my forehead with my free hand.

A knock sounded at the door. I turned and frowned slightly at the scruffy looking teenaged newsie, twisting his hat in his hand.

"Hello," I said apprehensively.

"Hi," the boy shuffled his feet.

I gestured to him. "Come in. I assume you're here to see Cricket?"

The boy nodded. "Yeah, I'm Slick, Spot's right hand man." He stepped forward into the room until he stopped right beside Cricket's head. He stared down at him for a few seconds before swearing quietly. He then looked at me guiltily but I didn't say anything. He'd matched my sentiments exactly.

"Who did this to him?" He asked, smoothing down the younger boy's hair. There was unconcealed anger rumbling right underneath his question.

I shook my head. "I don't know. They had tried to jump me before, in an alley in Manhattan. I don't know what they were doing on this side of New York."

"What did they look like?" Slick asked, still keeping his hand on Cricket's head.

I frowned thoughtfully, trying to remember. "The leader had black hair and gray eyes. I never got a good look at the others. He kinda . . . made himself the only one I could see." I flushed red at the memory. I hoped he had scars from my fingernails for the rest of his life.

Slick glanced at me sympathetically. He pointed at the empty sleeve that took the place of Cricket's right arm.

"They had to cut it off?" He asked incredulously.

I nodded. "It was broken too severely to be fixed.

Slick shook his head. "Man, that's gonna be rough. He's a righty too."

I smiled slightly. "He can learn to use his left hand. He seems like a bright kid."

"He is." Slick chewed on his lip a while as silence filled the room.

"Spot says the doc says he's gonna die. That true?" I nodded my head. Slick winced. "No wonder Spot was so shaken up. He kept pacing around the room and went through a whole pack of cigarettes before finally dropping off."

He ran his hand through rust colored hair. "Man, Cricket can't die. It'll tear Spot up not to mention the rest of us." He shot a look at me. "Cricket's always been the newsies' pet you know? Everyone's favorite. Especially Spot's."

"Spot said he latched onto him after his parent's died."

Slick nodded. "Yeah but it's more than that. Spot's the one who dragged Cricket out of the fire that killed his parents three years ago."

I felt my eyes go wide.

"Really? Spot never mentioned that."

Slick shrugged. "He doesn't really like talking about it," he said. "I know it's because he feels guilty couldn't save the parents. He was going to go back for them but the front of the house had collapsed and the bulls wouldn't let him." He rubbed the back of his neck and continued to stare at Cricket. Then suddenly he turned and slammed his fist into the wall, pressing his forehead against it and breathing heavily. He started cussing the guys that did this to Cricket up and down. I stood slowly and made my way over to him.

"He can't die," he said. "We could lose anyone, anyone but Cricket."

I placed my hand on his shoulder and realized with a start that it was quivering. I tightened my grip and Slick hit the wall again and again and again, as if he thought the physical pain would ease the pain inside. I understood how he felt, mostly. I had only known Cricket a little while but had fallen in love with him instantly. The insect quality of his whistling was an endearing sound that I longed to hear again.

Slick finally stopped hitting the wall and straightened. I dropped my hand and he gave me a small smile of thanks. I nodded and made my way back to Cricket's side. Slick followed me. His eyes were rimmed faintly with red but other than that he looked impassive. He patted Cricket's shoulder.

"Come through kid, you can make it."

I patted him on the back. "I'll send news if he wakes up," I promised him.

"Thanks," he said quietly. Then he grinned. "Spot was right about you." He said putting on his hat.

I frowned. "What did he say about me?"

Slick just smiled slyly and made his way to the door. I followed.

"What did he say about me?" I insisted.

He tipped his hat and disappeared down the stairs. I lifted my hands in exasperation and returned to Cricket's side. I leaned over and kissed his forehead.

"Wake up soon Cricket," I whispered. "There are a lot of people waiting for you.

000000

Cricket didn't wake up. The doctor, when he came, looked grave.

"It'll take only a miracle to save him now," he stated.

I continued to stay at his bedside. Stroking his left hand and speaking to him, even though I wasn't sure he could hear me. I slept in the room now too, just in case he woke in the middle of the night. I held fast to Spot's assurance that he was tough enough to make it. One night I awoke to a strange sound.

I sat up and peered over at Cricket. I was surprised to find him moving. Hope sprang through me as I leaped out of bed and rushed to his side. Had he finally awakened? But no, I could see he was still unconscious. But there were tears running down his battered face and his body kept thrashing under the covers. I placed my hand on his shoulder, trying to calm him.

"No! Mama! Papa!" I started at the sound of his voice. It was hoarse from not being used in three years. Sweat was pouring down his face and when I touched his forehead he was blazing hot. I got up and ran to the bell that would call Albert to me. When he arrived, dressed in a long bathrobe and a stocking cap, I ordered him to call the doctor. I started to smooth Cricket's hair as I waited.

He moved about some more, calling out for Spot, Slick, and some others whom I assumed were fellow newsies. He was sobbing harder than I've ever seen a kid cry. I was taken aback. Cricket was a tough kid, what was he doing bawling his eyes out. But when he cried for his mother and father again I realized that he must be having nightmares of the fire and imagining his friends dying along with his parents. I could understand how that would make him cry.

I gripped his shoulders and held him as tight as I could without hurting him. He gradually calmed down and soon became still. I wiped away his tears gently just as the doctor came bustling in. He went right to Cricket and started looking him over.

"What happened?" He asked. I told him. He scratched his chin. "Well, this is a good sign actually. It means he hasn't slipped into a coma which means he just might pull through."

"Spot told me that he hasn't spoken in three years. Why now?"

"Dreams sometimes trigger the part of the brain that's been put to the side because of some traumatic event. In this case Cricket's voice. He can speak just fine obviously; there has never been any damage to his vocal area. The shock of having his parents burn to death probably damaged him enough inside he just stopped talking to people. Now I'm not a psychiatrist so don't go by my word."

I nodded, still stroking Cricket's hair. "So there's a chance he might wake up?"

"A larger chance than there was this morning definitely. Now if you'll excuse me, it's late and I have to get up early for work tomorrow." He turned towards the door.

"What should I do if it happens again?" I asked.

"I think what you've done worked very well. I'll check in with him tomorrow after my rounds. Goodnight Miss Meyers."

I waved to him and he left. Looking down into Cricket's now peaceful face, I traced the scar that now ran from his temple to his cheekbone.

"You gave me a fright there," I told him. "Let's let that not happen again."

His face suddenly screwed up like he was going to yell again. I swiftly started stroking his hair again and started singing softly. The girls often had nightmares, crying out for Mama and sometimes Papa. I knew the only way to calm them was to rock them in my lap and sing lullabies to them. I couldn't rock Cricket, but I could sing.

"_Fi la nana, e mi bel fiol,  
__Fi la nana, e mi bel fiol,  
__Fa__ si la nana.  
__Fa__ si la nana._

"_Dormi ben, e mi bel fiol,  
__Dormi ben, e mi bel fiol,  
Fa__ si la nana.  
__Fa si la nana._"

It was an old Italian lullaby Mama used to sing to me and Tommy when we were little. I couldn't believe I remembered all the lyrics. She used to always sing it in Italian. I didn't know what the words meant in English. But it was soothing and Cricket's face had smoothed out. I sang it a few more times before drifting off to sleep, my head on his pillow, my fingers still in his hair.

When I woke up I almost shrieked to find my blue eyes meeting the light brown ones of Cricket. I sat up quickly and got dizzy as a result. He just continued to look at me silently. I suddenly realized that he was awake. Cricket was awake! He was going to be alright.

"Hey Cricket," I said, "how do you feel?"

He frowned and shook his head slightly. I smiled.

"Yeah, I didn't feel so good either when I woke up. I'm going to go call for the doctor. You stay right here."

He gave me a looked that said "Are you serious?" I realized what I had just said. I blushed.

"Right. I'll just go get doctor now." I flew out the door and ran straight into Albert. "Get the doctor!" I said, breathless. "Cricket's awake!"

In the next hour the doctor, Spot, Slick, Chava, and I were huddled around Cricket's bed. As the doctor looked him over, Spot and Slick bombarded him with questions. Was he doing alright? Did he feel strong enough to get working again soon? Did he think he could identify the guys that beat him up?

Cricket nodded vigorously to each question. The doctor stepped back.

"Well, after a few more days of bed rest to make sure those ribs heal straight I think you'll be ready to hit the streets again. Just be more careful in the future alright? I don't want to have to treat you again, understand?"

Cricket nodded. His face was solemn but I saw his eyes twinkle mischievously all the same. When the doctor and Chava left, Slick took me aside while Spot talked to Cricket.

"Hey, I just want to say thank you for all that you've done for Cricket. Spot really appreciates it, and so do the rest of us."

I smiled at him. "Hey, Cricket's as dear to me as he is to the next person. I was glad to help. Besides, I couldn't just leave him."

Slick patted my upper arm. "You're alright, Meyers."

I smiled. "You're alright too, Slick."

He grinned and made his way out the door. Spot followed him. I felt my heart leap to my throat . . . only to have it crash down when Spot only gave me a curt nod before leaving also. I closed the door and rested my head against it. Life was very complicated sometimes. I heard a small noise behind me and turned to see Cricket sitting up in bed looking at me curiously. I noticed I had tears clinging to my eyelashes and I wiped them away hurriedly. I forced a smile and went to sit next to Cricket.

"So, you okay?"

He nodded and pointed to me. I smiled. "I'm doing very well." I paused before going on. "I want to thank you for standing up to me. You didn't have to."

Cricket looked at me as if I had suddenly grown two heads. I laughed at myself.

"Okay, so you did need to. But not every boy would have anyway. You're a good kid Cricket, I'm proud to be your friend."

Cricket grabbed something dark that had been placed next to him. I hadn't noticed it before. I figured either Spot or Slick had brought it. He handed it to me. It was a wooden flute. It was slightly lopsided but other than that it was very nice.

"What's this for?" I asked, puzzled.

He pointed to his new shoes that lay beside the bed and then at the flute and then at me.

"But the shoes were because you needed them. You didn't have to give me anything back." I said and tried to hand the flute back to the boy.

He shook his head and pointed insistently at the flute then back at me. I finally gave in and smiled.

"Thank you Cricket," I said and put it to my lips. I blew slightly and the sound that came out sounded almost exactly like Cricket's insect-like whistle. I grinned at him. "Very nice, only you'll have to teach me how to play it."

His face fell and he pointed to where his right arm had been. My smile faded.

"Oh right. Well, you can still teach me with one hand. Just show me where to put my fingers and how to blow and everything."

Cricket's face lit up in a bright smile and he nodded heartily. I laughed then stood. Pushing him gently back down onto the pillow, I pointed my finger at him sternly.

"Now you get some rest, you hear? I want you to heal as fast as you can. Go it?"

Cricket nodded. I leaned forward then and kissed his forehead. He stiffened slightly and when I looked at him I noticed he had tears in his eyes. I realized what had triggered them.

"You're mama was the last one to do that, wasn't she?" I asked softly.

Cricket turned his face away but gave me a small nod. I patted his shoulder.

"You have good people taking care of you, Cricket. We all love you very much. You never have to doubt that."

Cricket turned back and gave me a faint smile. I gave him a full one back.

"Well, goodnight, Cricket."

He nodded and I quietly left the room, a lopsided flute in my hand and hope for the future of Cricket in my heart.

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**A/N: The lullaby Maggie sang to Cricket is a real Italian lullaby. The translation is:**

_Hush-a-bye, my lovely child,  
Hush-a-bye, my lovely child,  
Hush, hush and go to sleep.  
Hush, hush and go to sleep._

_Sleep well, my lovely child,  
Sleep well, my lovely child,  
Hush, hush and go to sleep.  
Hush, hush and go to sleep._

**It belongs to Sara Jordan Publishing.**

**Reviews make me feel warm and fuzzy inside. :-P**


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: **_Look, we all know that I don't own _Newsies_ because this is a site for _fan_fiction. I'm just a fan of _Newsies_ who wants to write down my own story in that world. IS THAT SO HARD TO UNDERSTAND?????!!!!!!!!! (Breaths heavily). Enjoy. (Grins sweetly.)_

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**Chapter 10**

When I checked on Cricket the next morning I was happily surprised to see him sitting up and playing poker with Uncle Leo on top of a little table that Albert had attached to Uncle Leo's wheelchair. He waved at me and gestured to the growing pile of peanuts that sat beside him. I grinned and grabbed a chair. Uncle Leo turned to me with an incredulous look.

"You're young friend here is a fabulous poker player," he said. "He's already beaten me five times in the last twenty minutes!"

I laughed. "Deal me in, I want to play."

Cricket dealt me two cards and we began another round. I could tell I had become better at it, for I soon obtained a small pile of peanuts. However Cricket was still beating me and Uncle Leo both. My uncle shook his head.

"How does he do it?" He asked as Cricket gathered up another pile of peanuts.

I grinned. "He cheats, that's how." I said.

Cricket kicked my leg and frowned slightly but I just smiled wider and soon he did too. He lay down his hand to show another pair of aces and wiggled his eyebrows at me while he collected his winnings. Uncle Leo scratched the top of his head.

"If he does, I can never see it. This kid's a master."

Cricket grinned in satisfaction and dealt out another hand. I faked a sigh of reluctance as I took my cards. Just then Albert entered the room.

"A young man to see you, Miss Margaret," he said in droll tones. "He says it's urgent."

I glanced in confusion at Cricket and Uncle Leo. Cricket shrugged and looked bewildered. Uncle Leo nodded to me. I stood and followed Albert out of the door. Who could it possibly be? Albert knew Spot and would have told me it was him if it was. And if it had been Aaron he would have said that as well. So who could it be?

We reached the Gold Room and Albert opened the door for me. I thanked him and stepped inside. I looked around for this young man and when I saw him I froze. Tommy stood in the middle of the room, holding his hat tightly in his hands. His hair was short and curly and he had a faint tan line across his cheekbones where his hat had shaded his face.

He stepped forward when he saw me before stopping abruptly. His face screwed up as if he were about to cry when he saw the bruise on my face. I moved closer. He lifted his hand and brushed a rather large bruise that covered the right side of my face.

"Oh Mags," he moaned. "You're face."

I just stared at him. "It looks worse than it feels," I said shortly. He winced slightly at my tone.

"Maggie," he started then stopped. I waited. "Maggie, I'm sorry I didn't contact you. Something happened—" he cut off.

"What?" I asked.

"I can't tell you!" He flung up his hands in exasperation.

I bit my lip. He sat down on the sofa and placed his head in his hands. After a few seconds I sat down beside him, putting my arm around his shoulders. He took a shuddering breath.

"I should've come home, I should've. And now Mama's dead. . . ." He began to cry.

I put my other arm around him and held him close. I felt bad now for what I had said to him and about him. I didn't understand what was happening, but my brother was upset and I needed to be there for him. I shushed him soothingly, patting his head and rubbing his back.

"_Fi la nana, e mi bel fiol, Fi la nana, e mi bel fiol_," I whispered in his ear. I felt him stiffen slightly.

"Mama used to sing that song," he said softly, his voice full of the tears he had not shed yet.

"You remember," I said softly. It was more of a statement then a question.

He sat up and wiped away his tears roughly. "'Course I remember." He looked at me mournfully. "Please don't hate me, Maggie."

I shook my head and leaned forward to kiss his cheek. "I could never hate you Tommy. But do you think you could come back to the house? Papa kicked me out but if you come home maybe we could all be together again. You don't even know about Florence, Mary, or the triplets."

His eye widened. "There's more of you?" He asked in awe.

I laughed. "More of us, you mean. And yes. Mama had five more girls while you were gone."

He looked stunned. Running his hand through his hair he whistled softly. "Whoa. Ten kids now huh?"

I nodded. "And Papa all by himself. I think he'd like it if you come home." I looked up at him with pleading eyes. "Please Tommy? I would mean a lot to all of us."

He frowned in thought. I took his hand and held tightly. He looked down and smiled faintly at the sight of our hands clasped. I cupped his chin in my hands and forced him to look at me. My blue eyes searched his dark brown ones. They reminded me so much of Mama.

"The girls can't wait to meet you," I said softly.

Tommy took a deep breath before nodded. "Alright, I'll go. But if it don't work out, I'm coming back to 'Hattan."

I nodded. "I understand. But it'll work out." I grinned.

0000000

Still having time off from work, and the fact that it was a Saturday, I took Tommy over to the tenet house the next day. After making sure Cricket was comfortable, we left around ten o' clock for Tommy had spent the night. He said he could not remember the last time he slept in a bed as nice as the one in that guest room. On our way I asked him one of the questions that had been bothering me.

"What should I call you, now that you have a nickname?"

He thought for a moment. "Call me Mush. Tommy's too young now that I'm almost eighteen, but Thomas sounds too formal."

I smiled and grabbed his hand. "Mush then," I said. I leaned my head against his shoulder. "Oh, I've missed you so much." I said softly.

Mush patted my head. "I've missed you too actually."

We arrived at the tenet house. I took a deep breath. I knew that if Papa caught me here I would be in big trouble. Mush was my life preserver. Hopefully when Papa saw Mush he would let him stay and me as well. We went up the stairs and paused at our door. I took a deep breath and then pushed it open.

Minnie was in the kitchen stirring something on the stove. Rose and Anna were on the floor playing with the triplets. Mary was curled up nearby sleeping. Florence was sitting on one of the beds reading a book. I cleared my throat slightly and Rose and Anna looked up. They gasped and stood quickly.

"MAGGIE!" They all screamed. Mary awoke with a start and rubbed her eyes sleepily. Rose and Anna grabbed Lilly and Helen. Minnie came running from the kitchen and picked up Ruth. Florence flung her book to one side and joined the group as they rushed to me.

Flinging their arms around me, Mush had to grab me from behind to keep me from falling over. I gave each of them a big hug and kiss and they all began speaking to me at the same time until I shouted for them to quiet down. When silence reigned once more I turned to the boy behind me.

"Girls, this is our brother, Tommy also known as Mush nowadays." As Minnie gaped openly at Mush I turned to the others. "Rose and Anna you know Mush—"

"They were one . . ." Mush seemed to be in awe as well.

"And this is Florence, Mary, Ruth, Lillian, and Helen."

Mush reached out and touched Mary's dark curls. "So many . . ." He said softly, but his eyes were shining. Whether from unshed tears or excitement I didn't know. I grasped his arm and he smiled at me. Minnie reached out hesitantly and tugged gently on Mush's sleeve.

"You're Tommy?" She asked, her wide blue eyes seemed to grow wider.

He nodded. "Yup, I'm Tommy. Although the guys call me Mush now."

"Guys?" Florence asked, tilting her head.

He nodded again. "Yeah, I'm a newsie. In Manhattan."

The girls nodded their heads knowingly. "Oh." Mary sucked on her finger, still staring at Mush with curious brown eyes. Rose suddenly spoke up.

"Here," she said, placing Lilly in Mush's arms abruptly.

He almost dropped her but his quick reflexes kept her from falling. He held her cautiously, almost as if he were afraid. Lilly gurgled happily and pulled at Mush's shirt buttons. He slowly smiled, his eyes growing bright. I looked into his face and saw that it was glowing. I knew then he would not want to leave and my heart gave a leap for joy.

"What is going on here?" A booming voice from the doorway startled me. Mush jumped slightly and Rose leaped to catch Lilly. My breath left me as I turned and looked up into the angry face of Papa.

"You," he whispered menacingly. "I told you never to come here again!"

I held out my hands pleadingly. "I know Papa, but—"

"And who is this?" He shouted, pointing at Mush.

He stepped forward but I moved quickly in front of him. "This is Tommy Papa. Tommy, remember?"

Papa's face smoothed out for a few seconds as he studied Mush. I reached out and grabbed his hand tightly, afraid of what would happen. Papa's face noticed our hands and frowned.

"Get your hands off my daughter!" He yelled. Mush jumped back, totally unprepared for this outburst.

"Papa, it really is him!" I insisted. He pointed his finger at me.

"I'll deal with you later, young lady," he said. "But first, you get out of my home!" He poked Mush in the chest with his pointing finger.

"No Papa!" I shouted.

Minnie quickly herded the girls into the next room. I was grateful. Mary looked bewildered and Florence looked like she was about to cry.

"Don't tell me what to do in my own house!" Papa was saying to me now.

Footsteps sounded from outside. The door was flung open and two policemen stood in the doorway and Chava and Mrs. Goldenberg stood behind them. I grimaced. This was not good.

"We got a call, Mrs. Goldenberg heard raised voice, wanted us to check it out." One of the policemen looked us all up and down as if trying to decide who the culprit was.

Papa pointed his finger at Mush. I blinked in surprise. What was he doing?

"That young man there has broken into my house and was manhandling my daughter."

I gasped. "That's not true!"

"He's trespassing and I want him arrested!" Papa continued as if I had not said anything.

I could not believe my ears. I flung my arms around Mush. "No!" I screamed. "You can't!"

Papa nodded. "Go ahead; you can see he's causing hysteria in my daughter."

The policemen looked at each other then nodded. I tried to keep my hold on Mush but while one policeman handcuffed him, the other held me back. I reached out my hand for my brother but my fingers only brushed his sleeve before he was taken away. I dropped out of the policeman's grasp and crumpled to the floor, covering my face with my hands and sobbing.

"When you're done there," I heard Papa say in a soft voice. "You can go back to where you came from."

Chava knelt beside me and helped me to my feet. I could not believe what was happening. I had just gotten my brother back, only to have him taken away again. It was more than I could handle. I only vaguely remember Chava leading me down the stairs and calling a cab. Getting inside she held me as I cried on her shoulder. This was too much stress for me.

First I'm kicked out of my home, then I get harassed by a newsie who can't decide whether or not to leave me alone, then I find out that my brother is indeed alive and well, and then get attacked and almost have a good friend die, and now while I'm still on the mend, that same brother gets forcefully taken away from me again.

The rest of the day came to me as if through a haze. I walked into the Mansion and went straight up to my room. Laying on my bed I stared up at the ceiling, unable to cry anymore but feeling empty. Cricket came to me, against the doctor's orders for him to stay in bed, and lay down beside me. Patting my hand with his, we stared at the ceiling together until we fell asleep.

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	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Hey everyone! Sorry it took me so long in updating. Hope this chapter satisifies your need for another chapter.**

**Disclaimer:** _Yes I own _Newsies_. (Nods solemnly.) . . . Now that that's settled, would you mind telling me what my name is?_

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**Chapter 11**

I was able to convince the police to let me visit Mush. I started to explain the situation to him but he seemed disinterested with the story. He gave me fifteen minutes. I dared not argue, knowing it was the best I could hope for at the moment. I took a deep breath and entered the holding room where Mush would be brought out to me.

It was Cricket who had persuaded me to come. I had been complaining adamantly about Papa's treatment of Mush and mentioned how badly I wished to see him. Cricket was now confined to a wheelchair until his ribs healed completely. Uncle Leo had shown him a few clever tricks that he used so frequently (even with one arm), I was afraid he was going to injure himself more severely than before. He had given me a look which clearly told me he thought I should just go down to the jailhouse and visit Mush.

At first I balked at such an idea. For one I had never been inside a jail and it seemed ominous, secondly I wasn't sure what to say to Mush if they let me see him, and thirdly I wasn't sure they would even let me in! Cricket had given me a look that spoke of exasperation. I finally sighed and said I would go. He had grinned then and I could not help grinning back. Since I was still on sick leave from work, I figured the next day would not be a bad time.

So now here I was, in the jailhouse, waiting to see my brother. A policeman led Mush into the room, his hands handcuffed in front of him. His dark eyes lit up when they fell on me and a lump formed in my throat. The policeman turned to me.

"Ten minutes," he reminded me.

I nodded, unable to speak. The policeman undid the handcuffs and left the room. He went over to the window and watched us closely. I tried to ignore him. I approached Mush quietly. He stood still. Suddenly I could not wait any longer. I rushed forward, leaping into his arms as he held them open for me. I gripped him tightly; unable to stop the tears from trickling down my face. When I pulled away he wiped them off my cheeks gently, tenderly. I gave him a wavering smile.

"Sorry I'm such a wet blanket, I really don't cry this much."

Mush just smiled slightly, smoothing strands of hair away from my face with a calloused hand. I caught it in my own and held it tightly, sighing despondently.

"I don't know why Papa acted like that. I thought for sure he would be glad to see you home."

Mush's smile slipped. He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "I know why he did," he said quietly.

I looked at him in bewilderment. He gestured to the two chairs that we were standing next to.

"You might want to sit down."

I sat, still confused. What was going on? Why was Mush acting this way? He sat down across from me and placed his elbows on his knees, leaning towards me. He folded his fingers together and stared at the floor. I tried to catch his eye.

"Mush, what's going on?"

He looked up at me. "I didn't leave to get an adventure. I left because of Papa."

I must have looked stunned and confused for he sighed and went on.

"I had been skipping school a lot that year. One day Papa caught me. He said that if I wasn't going to be responsible and go to school, he would have to start taking me to the factory in order to 'keep me doing something worthwhile.' I didn't want to work at the factory, and I didn't want to go to school. Papa and I had a huge fight about it. So I ran away. It was selfish of me, I know that now. But once I got to Manhattan I knew I couldn't come back. I saw that you all would be better off without me."

I stared at him in shock. "What could of happened to make you believe a huge lie like that?" I asked.

Mush gave me a weak smile. "It's a long story."

I glanced at the guard. "Well, give me a summary then."

Mush's smile widened briefly before it disappeared again. He ran his hand through his brown curls.

"When I got to Manhattan, I had no one. Then I met this kid named Jack Kelly who was my age and was a newsie. He showed me how to become a newsie. That transformation included learning how to lie convincingly, steal food when the situation demanded it, and I knew it would kill Mama if she found out. So I couldn't come back. Besides, I knew Papa would punish me good."

I cocked my head, studying him. "Is that it?"

He flushed. "No, there's some . . . other things, but that's all I can tell you for now."

I sighed. "Well, I'm sure if I talk to Papa he'll—"

"No, don't you get it? Papa hates me."

My mouth dropped. "What?"

"Papa hates me because he hates himself. He blames himself for my leaving. He thinks that it's his fault because he was going to make me work at the factory. No one likes to admit that they hate themselves, so he's expressing that hate onto me."

I could only stare. I couldn't think of anything to say. It made so much sense yet I could not believe it. Papa couldn't be blaming himself could he? It was ridiculous that Papa would think Mush's leaving was his fault. But that did explain how his behavior had changed after my brother left. However, something still was bothering me.

"But if he thinks that he's mad at you, why did he kick me out of the house? Why does he act like I'm no longer his daughter?"

Mush gave me a sad smile. "I suppose that in my absence he needed someone else to lay the blame on. You were the best choice he could make, I guess."

I laughed slightly. "How did you get all smart on things like this?"

His face remained serious. "You pick up stuff about people when you live on the streets. Haven't you ever disliked someone for something that you did yourself?"

The way he said it made it seem like he knew what he was talking about. I could only shake my head silently. The guard reentered the room.

"Okay, time's up," he drawled.

I stood reluctantly. Mush hugged me tightly before the other guards entered to take him away.

"Don't give up on Papa just yet, Mags. He really does love you." He said as the guards clapped handcuffs over his wrists. My heart cried out against such treatment. My brother wouldn't hurt a fly much less me.

"He loves you too," I insisted, refusing to believe that Papa hated Mush even if he consciously blamed him for his misery. "And so do I." I added.

Mush grinned at me, but his smile was slightly sad. The guards led him away.

"Love you too Mags," he flung over his shoulder as the door shut behind them. The first guard escorted me out. I stood staring at the jailhouse for a long moment before setting off for the Mansion. I stopped to see Uncle Leo on my way to Cricket's room. He was sitting in the Gold Room, his back to me, staring into the fireplace. I came up behind him and wrapped my arms around his shoulders, placing my head on top so that my face was next to his. He patted my arm.

"And how is our Thomas doing?"

"Well enough, he wants to be called Mush though. He says 'Thomas' sounds to old."

"Yes well he has grown old, hasn't he? Living on the streets is a dangerous business. I would assume that he has grown up in many ways."

I was quiet for a moment, thinking that over. I had noticed that he was different than when we were younger but I attributed that to his age. A seventeen-year-old going on eighteen would naturally act older than a ten-year-old. But I could see what Uncle Leo meant. There was something in Mush's eyes that spoke of hardships that I could only speculate about. Something had caused him to grow up too fast. He reminded me of Cricket. A middle-aged man trapped in a child's body.

I kissed Uncle Leo's withered cheek and told him I'd been down for supper before going up to see Cricket. When I reached the room I held out my hand to grab the door handle, but before I could touch it, it moved. I leaped back slightly as the door opened and Spot and Slick stepped out of the room. I frowned slightly at the enraged looks on their faces.

"What's going on?" I asked.

Spot did not speak; he only glowered at a spot behind me. Slick was holding a piece of paper. He shoved it at me, his eyes dark with anger. I took it curiously. Written on the paper in childish script was what seemed to be a description. As I read through it, I suddenly realized that this was a description of the boys who attacked me and Cricket.

"From those there descriptions Spot figured out that those boys who attacked you are a gang of no-good scabbers from right here in Brooklyn. He don't know what they was doing in 'Hattan."

I gave back the paper. "What are you going to do about it?"

Slick gave me a look that suggested that I was stupid. "We're gonna soak 'em of course."

I bristled slightly at his tone but looked over at Spot in genuine interest. He was still scowling darkly. I took a step back; I had never seen him this angry before. Slick nodded to me.

"Well, we'd better get going if we want to catch those -------- before they take refuge in their quaint little houses."

I moved to the side to let Slick by, but when Spot went to follow him, I reached out and caught his arm. Surprised, he stopped. I was surprised myself and quickly dropped my hold. I half-thought he would move on, but he didn't. He just stood there, looking at me expectantly. When I couldn't say anything, he sighed in exasperation.

"Well?" He asked irritably.

His tone annoyed me so much I found myself talking with the ease I thought I had lost.

"What is up with you? First you act all strange after my party, calling me 'Meyers' and hardly talking to me, and then you spill your gut out about Cricket and then you clam up again. Have I done something to damage your pride? Are you angry with me for what happened on my birthday? Because you were the one that kissed me, remember? Not the other way around!"

I was breathing heavily, feeling slightly better after getting all that off my chest. Spot blinked at me then slowly smirked. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes and braced myself for the arrogant remark I knew was coming.

"You gotta be careful how you talk Maggie, or else someone might think you've missed me."

My mouth dropped open. "Of all the self-righteous—"

"So you did miss me?" His smirk widened as he took a step towards me.

"I never said that," I said defensively.

"You didn't have to," he took another step. "Admit it Meyers, you like me."

I gasped and sputtered some more, unable to think up a good retort. The fact was I was having a hard time concentrating on my comeback because Spot continued to step closer and closer until he was standing right in front of me, our faces inches away from each other.

"I . . . do not," I managed to get out.

He snorted in mock disgust. "You'd have to be as dumb as the Delancey brothers to believe that one, Mags."

"Who—" I started to ask, but before I could Spot's mouth was over mine, silencing my question.

At first I could not respond. It was so sudden and yet so wonderful I could do nothing but just take it. He mistook my shock for unwillingness and began to pull away. Instantly my arms shot up around his neck and I was pressing his lips harder onto mine before I could think about what I was doing. He placed one hand on my back, pulling me up against him, and the other in my hair. The top of his walking stick dug into my stomach, but I paid it no heed. My fingers played with the soft strands at the base of his head as he passionately delved into my mouth and I into his.

Suddenly an awkward cough came from the staircase. I pulled away quickly, as if Spot were made of fire. Spot smirked and turned to Slick who was standing on the top step of the stairs with a strange expression on his face.

"You coming Spot?" He asked, looking from him to me and then back again.

Spot lifted his walking stick from its place in his suspenders and twirled it nonchalantly.

"Yeah," he drawled. "Coming."

Slick nodded, flashed one last look at me before turning and pounding down the stairs. Spot smirked one last time at me before following his friend. I stood there, breathing heavily, wondering what in the world had just happened. My feet were frozen to the ground like they had been when Spot had first kissed me, although it had been nothing like this. I sagged against the wall. What the blazes had just happened?

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	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Hey ya'll! Could you believe this chapter took me a week to write? Unbelievable.**

**Disclaimer:** Newises _belongs to genius. I'm not a genius, but I am smart enough to realize this. Doesn't that make me smart enough to own_ Newsies_? Apparently Disney doesn't think so._

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Chapter 12**

I worked three days later. The doctor had finally declared me fit for work. Mrs. Kleppman went easy on me. I stayed behind the front counter all day. Costumers came and went and Mrs. Kleppman kept busy, bustling to and fro throughout the shop. My side became sore after a while and I was grateful when my dinner break arrived.

Uncle Leo usually provided me with a dinner, sending Daisy over to the shop to give it to me since it was too far to walk back to the Mansion. Halfway through my meal of ham and cheese sandwich, I received an unexpected visitor. He stood there staring at me for a long time before I grew irritated and snapped at him.

"What are you doing?"

He smirked. "Watching you eat, ain't it obvious?"

I struggled not to blush and rolled my eyes. "Spot, I swear you get more infuriating each time you open your mouth."

His smirk widened. "I take that as a compliment."

I snorted. "You would."

"Me, Slick, and some of the guys are going to soak those scabbers for Cricket this evening, so I won't be able to be here to walk you home. Gotta make sure all my newsies keep in one piece."

I found myself gaping at him. "Do—do the boys ever get seriously hurt when they fight?"

Spot looked at me as if I had just grown a third nostril.

"Of course some get hurt. This ain't no tea party we're talking about. Soaking's rough."

My mouth went dry. I licked my lips. "Has anyone ever died?" I managed to get out.

Spot rolled his eyes. "Oh please Mags don't get so dramatic. Scabbers ain't tough enough to hurt us near enough for that."

I knew that. Of course I knew that. It had been a stupid question. But the picture of Cricket lying prone on the ground, broken and bruised had appeared at the front of my mind and I did not want that pain to be bestowed on any one of the other newsies. I nodded to him.

"Good luck then," I said shortly, gathering up the remains of my lunch. I suddenly wasn't hungry anymore. Spot eyed the leftovers pointedly. I sighed and handed them over. He grinned and stuffed them in his mouth, walking away with his walking stick swinging cockily.

I returned to my work. When time for closing arrived, I actually found I missed Spot by my side as I locked up the shop. I noticed how dark it was getting. I looked at my watch. It was only six thirty. The sky was getting darker earlier now: winter was on its way. The weather had grown colder and I actually was shivering when I reached the mansion.

The first thing that happened when I stepped through the door was Daisy running into me. She was crying so hysterically, I had to hold her up to keep her from falling to the ground.

"Daisy! Daisy, what's wrong?"

"I'm sorry Miss Margaret, I tried to get him to stay but he wouldn't listen! He's gotten so much stronger."

The little maid began weeping harder. I shook her slightly.

"Daisy! What are you talking about?"

"Master Cricket is gone! To fight with the newsies! I tried to stop him, I tried."

I patted her head comfortingly even while I was groaning inwardly. What was Cricket thinking? He was in no shape to fight. He could barely walk! I sent Daisy to the kitchen for Mrs. Thompson to mollycoddle. Wrapping my scarf tighter around my neck, I once more opened the door and left the mansion. I raced to the center of Brooklyn, where Spot had found me that first day.

I looked around. People were going home for the day, the stores closing and the streetlamps being lit. I realized then that I did not know where the newsies were going to meet for this fight. I started wandering aimlessly, searching for any sign of a newsie gathering. Just then I heard a cat squeal loudly. Turning instinctively towards the sound I watched as a gray tabby practically flew out of a back alleyway. Sounds of cruel laughter reached my ears as a couple of rocks sailed through the air and landed where the cat had been seconds before.

Curious and hoping that I was in the right place, I followed the sound of the laughter which had stopped abruptly. As I got closer I could hear boys talking. I leaned against the wall adjacent to the opening of the alley and listened.

"So we's here Conlon, what's the problem?"

"You's my problem Sanders, what you go soaking Cricket for?"

"He was in my way, he don't move, I soak him. He shoulda known better."

"He was protecting a dame you's was trying to force yourself on, Sanders. My newsies know that ain't right. Cricket was doing his duty."

"Yeah, well I ain't gonna take it lying down. A newsie tries to soak me, I soak him 'til he can't walk no more."

"I don't take the soakings of my newsies lightly, Sanders. You's gonna pay for what you did to him."

A new voice piped up. I recognized Slick. "And Meyers!"

Sanders sounded puzzled. "What's Mush got ta do wit' anything?"

"That was 'is sister you tried to get on with, you—" Slick proceeded to call Sanders every dirty name he could think of. I think he made up a few others as well.

Just then Sanders must have snapped for there was a growl and then shouts and sounds of a scuffle. I hurriedly rounded the corner, stopping short when I saw the heaving mass of boys swearing, kicking, punching, and shouting. A small body rushed past me and I reached out to grab the scruff of his neck.

"Oh no you don't!" I cried, holding the squirming boy close to me.

Cricket struggled to get out of my grip but I tightened my hold on him. He had gotten stronger but I had the advantage of being taller and having both arms. I stumbled back at his efforts though, until my back was pressed against the wall. Cricket gave little grunts of annoyance and cries of irritation every time the fight seemed to get more exciting. I kept my hold. I did not want him to get hurt again, not while he was still on the mend. His ribs were not completely healed and nothing could change the fact that he still only had one arm.

Finally the fight slowed. I heard shouts of triumph and watched as Sanders and his gang made a run for it. Cricket went limp with defeat and I loosened my hold on him. As soon as I did he stepped hard on my foot and wiggled out of my grasp. I gave a gasp of pain and clutched at the throbbing toes. Cricket ran up to his leader who was breathing heavily and wiping sweat and grime from his face with a slightly soiled handkerchief. Slick had a cut above his eyebrow and a black eye but he was grinning broadly. Spot looked surprised when Cricket grabbed his sleeve.

"Whatcha doing here, Cricket?" He asked the boy. "You's is supposed to be at Meyers . . ." he trailed off when he looked up and noticed me. I lowered my foot and straightened. I nodded to Cricket.

"Just making sure he didn't get hurt," I explained. "He could not be dissuaded to come. I'll just be going now."

I turned and walked away; half hoping he would call me back. Instead it was Slick who ran up to me, stopping me before I got far.

"How long were you there?" He asked, swiping the blood that had trickled into his eye.

"I saw the entire thing," I said.

He grinned. "Most girls would've screamed or something. Once more I gotta say, 'You's not bad, Meyers.'"

I had to smile back. He tilted his head, rust colored hair swinging into his eyes.

"You heading home?"

I nodded. "I guess Cricket's well enough to stay with you all again." I smiled sadly. "I'll miss him though."

Impossibly, Slick's grin widened. "We'll let him visit on weekends and holidays."

I laughed. "Well, I'll see you around, I guess."

I gave a small wave and started to walk once more. Slick stopped me for the second time.

"Wait," he said. "Let me walk you home. It's not safe out in the streets of Brooklyn, especially at night."

I thought for a moment. I really wanted Spot to be the one to walk me home, but Slick was better than no one. I nodded. Before we started, Slick jogged back and informed Spot what he was doing. Spot's expression was unreadable. While I was waiting for Slick to come back, I felt someone tug on my sleeve. I looked down into Cricket's curious eyes and smiled.

I knelt so I could be at his level. "Well, I guess this is goodbye," I said, lightly brushing his hair away from his forehead with my fingertips. "I'll miss you," I said sincerely.

Cricket nodded silently, his nose wrinkling slightly as if at an unpleasant smell. I gave him a quick hug.

"You come and visit me sometime, okay?" I asked, standing.

He nodded; his eyes were sad. I leaned over and kissed the top of his head.

"Besides," I said, straightening, "you still have to teach me how to use that flute you gave me."

His face brightened and he nodded so hard his hair flopped up and down on his forehead. Giving him one last pat, I turned to Slick who was standing a couple of feet away, a small smile tugging at his lips. I gave him a nod to signify I was ready and he stepped forward. I matched my strides with his and soon left Cricket, Spot, and the rest of the Brooklyn newsies behind.

Slick was much more talkative than Spot had been. Our entire walk was full of his chatter. He talked about the weather, the headlines, the circulation of the papers, the nice looking dame that worked the counter at Hal's Bakery, and other such nonsense. I found after a while that I was actually enjoying his company. And when I saw the lights of the mansion ahead of us, I actually felt sorry our parting was drawing near.

Finally it came to me standing on the porch with Slick standing a few steps down, grinning at me. I stepped forward and held out my hand.

"Thanks for walking me home, Slick," I said. "I really appreciated it."

He looked at my hand for a moment and I thought I saw his smile slip slightly. But that might have just been a trick of the light for the next instant he was shaking my hand and grinning broadly.

"It was my pleasure, Meyers," he said.

I shook my head. "Please, call me Maggie. Meyers makes me sound like a Principal or something."

He laughed. "Sure thing, Maggie."

I stepped back to the door and opened it.

"Goodnight Slick, thanks again."

He grinned and took out his cap from a back pocket, placing it firmly on his head.

"G'night, little lady," he said, flicking the bill of his cap to me.

I laughed and shut the door. Leaning against it for a moment, I sighed. Tonight had definitely gone differently than what I had planned, but I found that I did not mind.

While we were playing cards, Uncle Leo asked why I had been late for supper. I told him the entire story, from when Spot came in to talk to me at my dinner break, to when Slick dropped me off. Uncle Leo watched me intently throughout my tale and our cards lay forgotten on his lap table. When I got to the end, Uncle Leo sat back and rubbed his chin.

"How do you feel about this Spot Conlon?" He asked slowly.

I looked at him surprised. I stuttered for a moment before blushing. "I like him," I admitted.

Uncle Leo nodded absently, his gaze suddenly distant. I was about to wave my hand in front of his face to make sure he was still with me, when he turned to me suddenly.

"When are you going to visit your father and get him to let Thomas out of jail?"

I started. "Wha—how—when did we get on that subject?"

"Just answer the question Margaret," he said, rather irritably.

I stuttered a while longer before saying slowly, "Do I need to talk to him? Why can't you talk to him?"

Uncle Leo's face darkened. "You need to talk to him Margaret because it is your responsibility. Your responsibility to your sisters, to make sure they are well taken care of. Your responsibilities to your brother, to make sure you are there for him, to help him, and encourage him. Your responsibility to your father, to show him that he is not fulfilling his God-given duties in parenting you children. You need to gather your courage and speak up girl, for the good of this entire family. You're mother would have wanted it.

"Your life is not spending your time cavorting with street boys. Your family is your life. Your family is your blood. Betray that bond and you will have no one."

I sat there silently, stunned. I had never thought of it in those terms. Uncle Leo's words hit me hard and I felt sick to my stomach. Tears pricked the corners of my eyes and I struggled to keep them back. His face softened.

"I will pray that you will be given strength to do what you must do. And remember that I will always be here for you. You are a good girl, Margaret. You will do the right thing, and it will make a difference."

I nodded dumbly. The game abandoned, I quietly said goodnight and made my way upstairs. I took my nightly bath and got ready and into bed woodenly. As the lights were turned off I rolled over onto my side and stared at the flimsy white curtains that fluttered across the slightly open window. The worst part about Uncle Leo's speech was that it was all true. I had been neglecting my sisters. I had not even thought about them since I had visited Mush three days ago. I had buried my feelings about my family issues in thinking about Spot and spending time with Cricket. I had been a fool.

I resolved then and there that I had to go see Papa. I had to get the truth out of him. Was it like Mush had said? I needed to know. The next day I would call Chava and she could go with me for moral support. I fell asleep grim faced.

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**Roses are red,  
Violets are blue,  
Sugar is sweet,  
And so are reveiws.**


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: **_I invented _Newsies_ the same day I invented the space shuttle and microwave popcorn._

**

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Chapter 13**

The next afternoon was on a Sunday and so I didn't go to work. Instead I found myself and Chava standing in front of our tenement house, hands clasped and my hand out to knock. I had not wanted to come. I had sat on my front porch, ready to go, for an hour. It actually started to snow. I watched as the snowflakes drifted down slowly, melting on my gloved hand when I held it out from under the porch ceiling. Shivering, I had had second thoughts. But then Slick had stopped by.

To say I was surprised would be an understatement. He stood there, watching me for a moment, a small smile lighting up his eyes. I lowered my hand. I was still amazed at how different Slick was than Spot. For Spot it seemed like it was hard for him to show any emotion except for haughtiness and pride. For Slick it seemed hard for him _not_ to show any emotion. The kid smiled quicker than my dad's mood swings.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, stepping down the porch steps to stand in front of him.

He grinned down at me. "Well, I was just sellin' my papes," here he held up a stack of newspapers that were under his arm "and decided to stop by while I was in the neighborhood. Whatcha doin' standin' out in the cold like this? Tryin' to get frostbite or somethin'?"

I made a face. "No, I'm trying to decide whether or not I want to go talk to my father."

He tilted his head, his eyes obscured by the shadow of his cap. "Bad blood?"

I nodded. "You could say that. But I need to work it out. The problem is I'm a coward when it comes to Papa."

He shifted the stack of papers to his other arm. "I could come with if you wanted."

I smiled at the kind gesture. "Thanks, but my friend Chava is going to be there for me. Hopefully she can help me not stumble over my words."

"But she can't help if you ain't gonna show," he pointed out.

Then he did an unexpected thing. Lifting his papers to his shoulder, he held his other hand out to me.

"Come on, I'll make sure you don't get cold feet," he said.

I smiled and took his hand, giving it a light squeeze. I nodded.

"Alright, thanks."

He grinned at me and we began walking. I looked over at him. He was wearing a long sleeve shirt and pants, but his neck and hands were bare. His ears and nose were slightly red and I could see his breath as well as mine. I quickly pulled off my long white scarf and threw it around his neck. He looked at me in surprise. He lifted an end and examined it.

"What's this for?" He asked, puzzled.

"You looked cold," I said.

He grinned and I noticed his lips were chapped. "Thanks."

"You're welcome." I lifted the corners of my jacket and held them above my now exposed neck.

We walked on in silence for a while, me dreading every step closer to our tenement house. I shivered slightly as we stopped to sell a couple papers to a passing couple. A cute girl with freckles approached us and flirted with Slick for a few seemingly long minutes before buying a paper and leaving. Slick had a strange smile on his face when we began walking again. I nudged him.

"You like her?" I asked, tossing my head behind me to indicate who I was talking about.

He looked at me a moment before blinking and turning his face away.

"No" was all he said. He shifted his papers to his other shoulder, blocking his face from me.

I held back a smirk. "You seemed to be cozying up to her." I poked him in the ribs. "It sure seemed like you were enjoying the attention."

Slick didn't move the papers. "Yeah sure I liked the attention. That don't mean I like her. She's an alright looking dame, but not my type."

There was something strange in his voice. I wished I could see his face. As if hearing my wish, Slick switched shoulders again. He grinned at me although something about it seemed half-hearted.

"You know Spot really likes you. He just has a hard time showing it."

I started in surprise, almost stopping. "Why?"

He shrugged. "He has his reasons. But you won't see me blabbing them around. He trusts me see. Me and Cricket are his right hand men." He gave me an apologetic look. "All I can tell you is not to give up on him. He'll come around."

I was surprised Slick even knew I was thinking about Spot's aloofness a lot lately. I mean, it did seem like after both times he kissed me he retreated farther away. It was strange. What was he running from? What was he afraid of? I realized that Spot would be the last person to admit he was afraid of anything. His pride took care of that. Stupid pride.

We had arrived at the tenement house and I bid Slick goodbye, thanking him as well. He tipped his cap to me and then sauntered off, whistling. I took a deep breath and then entered the front door. Going up the stairs, I met Chava halfway. She gave me a tight hug. Then taking my hand, she led me up the rest of the way.

Now here we stood, with my hand raised to knock. I let my knuckles fall on the wooden door. Rise and fall and again. I held my breath as the door slowly opened. Minnie poked her small blonde head out. When she caught sight of me she smiled, but then her smile froze as our papa asked her who was at the door. I gave her a reassuring nod before pushing back the door, Chava at my heels.

Papa was sitting at the kitchen table, his head in his hands. He looked miserable. He looked tired and old. My heart suddenly went out to him. This was my father, I realized. The same man who had loved us more than air. And who Mush was convinced still did. I gestured for Minnie to take the girls into the next room. She did with wide, curious eyes. I approached the table, Chava trailing along not far behind.

"Papa?" I asked softly. "It's me, Maggie. Your daughter."

He looked up at me with eyes so vacant I almost thought he had turned blind. Then he blinked and the light blue pools focused on me. A frown flickered across his lined forehead but before he could open his mouth to order me away, I spoke up.

"I know about the fight Papa," I said. "I know about what happened between you and Mush. You can't blame yourself Papa. Tommy made his own choice to leave. And he doesn't hate you."

A look of surprise crossed his face before the frown replaced it.

"You don't know what you're talking about," he said in a low voice.

"Papa, please don't push me away! I love you, you're my father. Don't you think it's time you act like one? Minnie, Rose, and Anna think you hate them! They're afraid of you Papa. And Mary, Lillian, Ruth, and Helen are going to grow up to be just like them: frightened of you and of other men their entire lives. Don't you love us Papa? You did once, before Mama died. What changed? It's not our fault Mama died, we loved her too."

A tortured look entered his eyes, but he didn't speak. I walked over and kissed his cheek before turning to leave. His cracked voice stopped me.

"It's not your fault," he said. "It's mine. All mine."

I turned in surprise to see him crying, his shoulders heaving. I looked over at Chava, she seemed slightly uncomfortable. I met her gaze and nodded my head to the next room where the other girls were, indicating that she could leave. She did thankfully, squeezing my hand as she passed. I turned back to Papa. He had paid no heed to Chava and my exchange. I knelt beside his chair and took his large hand in both of my small ones.

"It's not your fault Papa. Mama gave birth to three babies at once. She was weak and sickly. It's no one's fault that she died."

"She only became sickly after she gave up hope that Thomas would not come back. I should have looked harder for him. I should not have given up. Because of my ineptitude, your mother grew weak with sadness. I killed her."

"No!" I exclaimed, shocked that my father could think such things. "No, you didn't. You made a mistake, but so does everyone. Her death is not your fault. You need to forgive yourself Papa. I know she wouldn't have wanted you to be like this."

He looked down at me with eyes swimming with tears still unshed. His jaw tightened.

"I know that, I know that." He muttered to himself.

"Please Papa, let Tommy come home. He doesn't blame you for anything. He understands that you were only looking out for his best when you caught him skipping school. Please Papa; let us be a family again. We don't have to stay at Uncle Leo's if you don't want us to. Even if his house is much larger and can fit us better. I don't know why you two dislike each other, but if only you'll let Tommy home I'll come back and we can start over again."

He was nodding now, gripping my hand tightly.

"Try again as a family," I pressed.

He looked at me directly now. "I'd like that," he said, squeezing my hand. He gave me a small smile.

"And I think living with your Uncle is a good idea. You girls and Tommy should move in with him as soon as possible. It's for the best. I'll go over to the station and sign for his release."

"But what about you Papa?"

"I'd better stay here. I'm a working man. I wouldn't do well in that posh estate. I'll be around, but I think you girls could do better withput a father like me."

I flung my arms around his neck. "Oh thank you Papa. I do love you. Very much. And please don't stay away too long, I disagree with you. If you clean up some I think you'd make a very decent father. The girls need you anyway."

He sat stiffly for a moment, before patting my back hesitantly. "You'd better tell your sisters" was all that he said.

Giving him a peck on the cheek, I ran into the next room. I grabbed Mary and swung her around in the air. She shrieked with laughter, her brown curls bouncing and her brown eyes sparkling. Minnie looked expectantly at me.

"Pack your bags girls," I said, grinning broadly. "We're moving in with Uncle Leo. Tommy will meet us there after I go with Papa to free him."

Chava looked at me curiously. "You're leaving?"

"What about Papa?" Florence asked as Minnie began to stuff their meager belongings into a bag.

I knelt in front of her, trying to be as kind as possible. "Papa can't come with us right now. He just needs some time to think things out. He'll come later. Understand?"

Florence nodded solemnly. Rose and Anna began to bundle up the babies in warmer clothes. Chava began to help with Mary and I helped with Helen. Chava kept giving me strange looks that looked like hurt, but I couldn't see why she would be hurt. I realized then that if we were all moving, that left Chava with no one. As we all left the room, I turned to my best friend and lay a hand on her shoulder.

"Hey, you can come and visit any time." I told her. Her face lit into a grin.

"Thanks," she said.

We started through the house to the door. Papa was standing at the window, his hands clasped behind his back, his head down, his eyes on the floor. Florence went over and tugged on his sleeve. He looked down at her with sad eyes and placed his hand briefly on her head. Then he gently nudged her to the door where we stood waiting.

The walk back to the Mansion was a quiet one. Slick had left with my scarf so I was shivering slightly. Minnie, Rose, and Anna gasped and Florence's eyes grew wide in wonder at the size of the building when we arrived. The babies sucked their fingers solemnly.

When we entered the house, Uncle Leo was there to greet us all with a big hug. The little ones took to him instantly. Minnie was soon laughing, a sound I had not heard in a long time. Rose and Anna began to tell Uncle Leo stories in their regular animated way. We slowly moved to the Gold room where everyone was soon seated comfortably with a cup of hot cocoa. Daisy and Susanna took Helen, Ruth, Lillian, and Mary up to bed for a nap, for they were rubbing their eyes sleepily.

After about an hour, I left with Chava to return to the tenement house in order to go pick up Mush. I felt good about leaving the girls with Uncle Leo, knowing he would treat them like angels. Chava was grinning at me.

"That was a good idea Maggie," she said. "I just wish it didn't mean you all moving away. I'll miss you."

I reached my arm over her shoulders and gave her a small hug. "Like I said before, you can come and visit any time. It's not that far away. It'll be fun."

She gave me a small smile. We parted ways in front of her door and I walked into the apartment to meet Papa. He barely looked at me before walking past and muttering "Let's go." I followed silently. We reached the police station in good time. But when Papa signed the release forms and they handed Mush over to us, he refused to come to the Mansion.

I stood with my hand grasping his arm, pulling him slightly towards the direction of the Mansion. Papa just watched us silently. Mush brushed me off and turned to Papa.

"Thank you, sir," he said formally. "I am sorry for running away. But I'm afraid I can't stay with this family. I'm not fit to be the man of the house."

I frowned. "What are you talking about Mush? You're strong, brave, hardworking. You're great!"

He shook his head stubbornly. "No, I'm not. I'm like you said before Mags, a coward. I didn't come back to you all even when I wanted to back then because I was afraid. There was a fight . . . I killed a boy." He jerked convulsively. "I knew I couldn't stand to come back to you after that. I knew what it would have done to Mama." He turned his face away. "It would've killed her."

I glanced at Papa. He was staring at the ground, the muscle in his jaw twitching. I looked back at Mush. Laying a hand on his arm, I tried to catch his eye.

"Hey Mush," I paused. "Tommy listen. We don't care what you've done. It's all in the past now. I just want us to be a family again." I looked over at Papa. "All of us."

Mush looked at me with eyes full of indecision and I could see a struggle behind his expression. He frowned then relaxed and then frowned again. He started to shake his head, paused, and then followed through.

"I'm sorry Mags, but for the time being I can't. I'm heading back to 'Hattan. That's where I belong, with my newsies."

Tears gathered in my eyes, I struggled to hold them back. "But what about us? You're part of the family. We need you Tommy," I turned to Papa. "Both of you."

Mush smiled slightly and cupped my cheek in his rough hand. He looked like he was about to say something but stopped. He dropped his hand and sighed.

"Not yet. I'm not ready yet." He looked at me with apologetic eyes. "Sorry."

With that he turned and began walking away. The tears spilled onto my cheeks and froze there in the cold wind that rushed by as if on an important errand. It made me shiver without my scarf. Crossing my arms to warm myself, I turned to Papa but he had already turned away and was walking up the street back to the apartment. Soon I was all alone, shivering with tears running down my frozen cheeks.

Something warm and soft pushed against my arm. I looked down in surprise to see a red scarf being handed to me. I followed the arm of the giver to look in shock into the hazel eyes of Spot Conlon. He looked pointedly at the scarf he was offering. I took it with a quiet thanks. Wrapping it around my neck, I took a deep shuddering breath. The scarf smelled sharply of something I couldn't quite recognize, but it wasn't unpleasant.

"He'll come around," Spot stated, nodding towards Mush who was now just a figure in the distance.

I opened my mouth to respond but Spot had turned and was walking away, shouting the headline of the papers he was carrying. A couple stopped to buy one and I watched as the exchange was made. Then with a small sigh, I turned and headed back towards the Mansion, my heart in my toes.

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**Reviews are the wind beneath the wings of my fingers as they fly over the keys. Without wind it is harder to fly.**


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: Can you believe this chapter took almost a month to write? Unbelievable . . .**

**Disclaimer: **Newsies_ still ain't mine._

**

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****Chapter 14**

December 13th was approaching which meant I needed to get ready for Saint Lucia's Day. Since Uncle Leo was Italian, I knew I would have to explain the Swedish traditions we always did each Christmas. Since the holidays were beginning I had to work extra hard at the shop. With some money that I saved up I was able to buy a simple white dress and a red sash. Uncle Leo pointed out that he could have bought them for me but I had not wanted him to. This was my gift to the girls. Minnie helped me make the wreath. After a bath, Susanna helped me wrap my hair into two braided loops around my ears.

The older girls were so excited about Saint Lucia's Day that it was hard getting them into bed. I finally did and went to bed, telling Susanna to wake me up at six o' clock so I could get ready. As I lay in bed my thoughts turned to Mush . . . Thomas. What was he going to do for Christmas? Lounge around the Lodging House smoking with the other newsies that had no home? That was no way to spend a Christmas.

Just then I had an idea. I wanted to get up and tell Uncle Leo; I was so excited about it. But I knew I had to stay in bed so that I would be able to do the Processional without falling asleep on my feet. And so I turned over and went to sleep.

Early in the morning, I got up and Susanna helped me into my white dress. She tied a beautiful bow with the sash around my waist and placed the wreath on top of my head. We took down my braids and wavy curls rippled down my back. Susanna beamed at me.

"You look beautiful, Miss Margaret," she told me.

I blushed slightly. "Is the breakfast ready?"

Just then Mrs. Thompson, her graying hair pulled back in a long braid and wearing a calico sleep robe, bustled in with a tray full of coffee and cakes. I took it with a smile and took a deep breath. Susanna nodded encouragingly and opened the door. I opened my mouth and began singing.

"_Så mörk är natten i midvinterid,  
men se, då naikas Lucia."_

The first room I entered was Florence's and Mary's. Florence sat up straight in bed as soon as she heard my voice and gave a cry of delight, clapping her hands. Mary looked up sleepily, rubbing her eyes and then blinking at me in wonder.

"_Hon kommer, den goda, med ljuset hit.  
__Hon kommer med hälsning om julefrid."_

They took their cakes and coffee and then followed me into across the hall into Rose and Anna's room. They were awake instantly, clapping their hands and singing along.

"_Hon kommer med ljus __i sin krona."_

Taking their own coffee and cakes, they joined the processional to Minnie's room where the babies and her slept. We quieted down this part so as to not wake up Ruth, Lillian, and Helen. Minnie was up and grinning. Rose handed her a cup and a cake and Minnie joined the group. Susanna then stayed behind to watch the babies.

"_I morka natten __i midvinterid,_

_vi halsa dig, vana Lucia."_

Uncle Leo's room was last. His eyes were twinkling as all of us girls sang to him. Anna brought him his cake and coffee. The girls gathered on his bed as I continued to sing.

"_Valkommen, du goda, med ljuset hit.__  
Valkommen med halsning om julefrid.  
Valkommen med ljus i din krona."_

The girls and even Uncle Leo sang the last verse with me in English.

"_Lucia is coming this midwinter might,  
when all is dark and cold.  
She's coming and wearing  
a crown of light.  
She wishes for peace at  
__Christmastime.  
She's bringing you light and joy."_

The girls cheered and I grinned. I had forgotten how much fun being Saint Lucia had been. It felt good to be celebrating, not worrying about whether or not the girls would have enough to eat or books for school. But this reminded me of Mush and I turned to Uncle Leo. The girls were now eating their cakes and drinking their coffee while talking to each other excitedly.

"Uncle, I had an idea, if you don't mind, about what we could do this Christmas in order to include Mush—Thomas."

"What's your idea, girl?"

"Well," I shuffled my bare feet. "Could we have a Christmas party? We could invite all the newsies, from Brooklyn and Manhattan."

Uncle Leo looked thoughtful. He scratched his chin and glanced at the girls. Minnie was tickling Mary who was almost shrieking with laughter, Rose and Anna and Florence were having a pillow fight. I suddenly regretted giving them coffee this early in the morning. Uncle Leo chuckled softly before turning back to me.

"That sounds like a fine idea. Let's have it Christmas Eve and Thomas can stay overnight. You can give out the invitations this week."

I hugged him tightly. "Oh thank you Uncle!"

Florence then hit me in the head with a pillow and I had to retaliate. The rest of the morning was spent in laughter.

00000000

For the next eleven days Uncle Leo spoiled us rotten. He took us to see the Nutcracker Ballet, to buy the Christmas tree, and bought us all Christmas dresses. On the fifth day he took us ice skating. The younger girls skated near Uncle Leo who stayed in his wheelchair off to the side. Ruth, Lilly, and Helen stayed at home with Susanna and Daisy. Albert was with us, to push Uncle Leo's chair. Minnie and I skated around nearer to the middle of the lake.

I was demonstrating to Minnie how to do a figure eight, when I spun into someone. My arms whirled in circles as I tried to keep my balance. The person I had run into steadied me and I turned to thank him or her. I was greeted by laughing green eyes and a wide grin. I skated back so I could see him better and Minnie skated up next to me.

"Slick? What are you doing here?" I asked, surprised.

"Not only me," he said, gesturing to the side.

There, one sweater sleeve flapping in the wind, was Cricket. I gave a cry of delight and enveloped him in a tight hug. He grinned up at me and then looked to the side to where Minnie was waiting for me. I remembered her and gestured her forward.

"Slick, Cricket, this is my little sister, Minnie."

Slick tipped his cap to Minnie and she giggled slightly. Cricket nodded to her and then began skating in small circles, waiting for Slick I suppose. I noticed Minnie watching him from underneath her eyelashes and stifled a laugh. Cricket had better watch out, I mused. Minnie was a cute girl and Cricket wasn't so bad looking himself.

I chuckled quietly before turning back to Slick.

"Where's Spot?"

Slick rubbed his nose with a knuckle. "Back at the Lodging House. Cricket wanted to come skate during our break before we got to go sell the noon papes."

"Oh." I couldn't help but sound disappointed.

Slick gave me a grin. I then remembered the Christmas Eve party and promptly invited Slick and Cricket.

"Spread the word about it," I told them. "All the Brooklyn and Manhattan newsies are welcome."

Slick and Cricket exchanged a grin. "Will there be food?" Slick wanted to know.

I rolled my eyes. "Knowing my family, yes there will be a lot of food."

Slick and Cricket grinned at each other again. "Then count us in!"

I gave a little laugh and waved as Minnie and I skated back to the other girls. The rest of the day was spent in frivolity. Our Christmas tree stood ten feet tall in the Gold room. We had to get Albert to stand on a chair in order to place the star on the top. We decorated it with cranberries and paper snowflakes along with candles and tinsel. Feeling mischievous, Rose and Anna fixed mistletoe above the door. They giggled over it for about an hour afterwards and kept making Mary go in and out of the door so they could cover her bewildered little face with kisses.

After the tree was finished, we sat around the fireplace and drank hot cocoa with sugar cookies. Florence gave us her own rendition of the Dance of the Sugar Plum fairy. Rose and Anna enjoyed it immensely and began laughing and throwing cookie chunks at her. Soon she had forgotten about dancing and was concentrating on catching the cookie bits in her mouth. Minnie and I giggled at them and Uncle Leo laughed so hard he had to ask for a handkerchief to wipe away his tears.

Mary began yawning soon after that and I announced that it was bedtime. Rose, Anna, and Florence protested, but Minnie helped me usher them upstairs after they kissed Uncle Leo goodnight. I carried Mary and after they were all in their dressing gowns, I got each one into bed. I stayed a few minutes in Minnie's room, saying goodnight to each of the babies and Susanna. When I turned to leave, Minnie called me back.

"Why didn't Cricket speak to us?" she asked, her wide blue eyes bright and questioning.

I gave her a small smile. "Because he doesn't talk, honey."

"He can't talk?" She seemed skeptical of the idea.

I sat down on her bed across from her. "Well, he _can_, he just doesn't. He had an . . . emotional trauma when he was younger, and he hasn't spoken since. Except in nightmares."

"Oh." She looked thoughtful now. "Why does he only have one arm?"

"He was in a fight and the doctor had to cut it off." This brought back feelings of guilt, but I pushed them away, remembering what Spot had told me.

"Oh."

When she didn't ask anything else, I kissed her forehead and told her goodnight. She said goodnight softly, and I could see her mind was elsewhere. I smiled secretly to myself. I was glad Minnie was experiencing these feelings for the first time _now_ where I could be there to guide her and protect her. Thinking of Minnie's crush on Cricket reminded me of my own crush on Spot. I sincerely hoped that he would be able to make it to the party. I had not spoken to him in a long time. Of course I had seen him around, and he still walked me home every night I worked, but I could never seem to bring up the subject of _us_.

The latest night he had walked me home I almost spoke up. He had been walking beside me, hands deep in his pockets, staring straight ahead. I had glanced at him once or twice but he never looked over at me. I remember sighing deeply before the commotion started.

I think the man was drunk. He was staggering and spoke in a loud voice. Right away I could sense Spot tensing beside me. The man was probably in his early twenties and he headed straight for me. I stopped abruptly but Spot grabbed my arm and forced me to keep walking. The man followed us, shouting obscenities and offensive sayings at both me and Spot. Then the drunk man reached forward and grabbed at my hair which was in a long braid down my back.

Spot lost it then. He turned and nailed a punch on the man's nose so hard I could hear the bone crunch. I winced and the man reeled back, clutching at his face. Spot gave him another punch in the gut, and then kneed him in the groin. The man doubled over in pain and Spot hurried back to me. Grabbing my hand, he started walked quickly, practically dragging me along. My heart was pounding in my chest, my throat, and my head.

When we were safely away from the drunk man, we slowed back to a walk. Spot turned to me and asked if I were okay. I could only nod dumbly, breathing heavily. He nodded back absently and faced forward again. It wasn't until I was back in the Mansion and heading toward my room that I realized he had never let go of my hand.

I shook my head, thinking back on it now I realize how much of a fool I must have seemed to him. But he had not seemed to care. I remembered what Slick had told me about Spot. What were his reasons for not talking about us? I determined I would find out at the party.

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**You vant to review. Yes, you do. You're getting verrrrry sleeeeepyyyy.**


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: "Absence makes the heart grow fonder" . . . right? right? :blushes: I'm terribly sorry guys, for not updating in forever, but I had horrible writers block and could not think of a single thing to write. Thankfully, due to circumstances beyond my control, I had been banned from my favorite website and YIM and finally had time to sit down and force myself to write SOMETHING!! I hope you all are happy in knowing that this chapter is the longest in the entire story. I am sorry to say that this will be the last chapter (besides an epilogue). Thank you all for joining me on this journey and I hope you like these last chapters (sorry they took so long in coming).**

**Disclaimer:** _Owning Spot Conlon and _Newsies_ would be a fantastic Christmas present only . . . it's not Christmas anymore. Oh well._

* * *

**Chapter 15**

To say I was nervous about the Christmas Eve party would have been an understatement. I wondered anxiously if Spot was going to be there, if Mush was going to be there, and what would I say or do if they did come. A small part of me doubted that Mush would be there, since he seemed content to stay far away from us. At least I knew that Slick and Cricket would come. I grinned slightly at the thought of two of my favorite newsies. I wondered also if Rose and Anna would coerce Minnie and Cricket underneath the mistletoe. It seemed like something they would do.

I spent most of the day before Christmas Eve in the kitchen helping Mrs. Thompson cook the food for the party. We had a little of everything, ten different kinds of sandwiches, eight different kinds of cookies, six different kinds of puddings, casseroles, cakes, petit fours, as well as hot chocolate, hot apple cider, and coffee. I found my stomach growling before long and was tempted to snitch some for myself. However Mrs. Thompson caught my longing looks and fixed me a lunch completely separate from the goodies we were making.

Often times Minnie or Rose and Anna would follow their noses into the kitchen, breathing in the heavenly scents and looking at me with big, round blue eyes that I found hard to resist. When Mrs. Thompson's back was turned, I gave them small morsels to nibble on. They took them with grateful smiles and tiny giggles as they scurried out of the kitchen. Mrs. Thompson gave me a knowing look, but did not scold me for it.

When we finally finished preparing all the food, Rose, Anna, Minnie, and I began work on the cleaning of the Gold Room, in order to make sure everything was nice and neat for the newsies' arrival. Susanna and Daisy and a few of the other maids protested, saying that it was their job to clean the house and we were putting them to shame, but I ordered them to watch Florence, Mary, and the triplets to ease their consciences and to make sure they had some fun. I felt as though they deserved it.

Before I knew it Christmas Eve had arrived. I found myself waited nervously by the front door for the first arrivals. I did not even know I was wringing my hands until Minnie gave them a pointed look. I stopped, not wanting to seem as anxious as I felt. My heart was pounding so loudly I was sure Albert could hear it across the hallway. I shut my eyes and took several deep breaths, trying not to get my hopes up that Mush would come, just in case he disappointed me . . . again.

A knock on the door jolted me out of my reverie. I suddenly felt at a loss as to what to do. I gave Minnie a panicked look.

"They're here!" I hissed agitatedly. "They're here! What should I do?"

Minnie gave me a somewhat exasperated look. "Open the door!" she hissed back.

I bit my lip, blushing slightly. "Right," I said, nodding, feeling incredibly silly at my behavior.

I took a hold of the door handle and took a deep breath before pasting a big smile on my face and opening the door.

"Welcome!" I greeted the guests heartily. I jumped back quickly as a crowd of dirty, sweaty young men pushed past me and bustled into the expansive hallway of Uncle Leo's mansion, talking, laughing, and carousing loudly.

Minnie blinked in surprise before beginning her duties as a greeter and ushering them all into the Gold Room. I was glad that we had thought to move most of the furniture out. I yelped in surprise as I was suddenly grabbed around the waist and twirled around in a circle. When I was set back on my feet I stepped back in order to see who had seized me. Snapping green eyes met my slightly dazed blue ones as I looked up into Slick's face.

"Hey!" I said, smiling, glad to see him.

"Hey yourself," he said back, grinning. "And how is our fair host this evening?" He bent over and gave me a feather-light kiss on the cheek.

My smile widened slightly. "Feeling very well, thank you. Merry Christmas."

He tipped his hat in reply. "And a Merry Christmas to you as well, Miss Maggie." He then seemed to remember it was bad manners to wear a hat indoors and whipped it off, stuffing it in his back pocket.

I giggled slightly at the site of his unruly ginger colored hair. He grinned sheepishly and ran his fingers through the strands.

"Sorry, I've been working all day. We all have. Thankfully we ain't got no work on Christmas, so we've got all day tomorrow off."

"Lucky you," I said, smirking slightly. My smirk reminded me of someone else's . . . someone else's that I suddenly wanted to see very badly.

"Where's Spot?" I asked, looking around at the boys milling into the Gold Room. "And Cricket for that matter?" I did not ask about Mush. Since he was a Manhattan newsie, I did not think Slick would know if he was coming or not.

"Cricket's here, you must not've seen him come in with the others. And Spot . . . he never said whether he was coming or not so," he shrugged, "we'll see."

"Oh," I said, trying not to feel or look disappointed. Slick must have caught on though, for his smile softened and he reached over to tug on one of my golden curls. (I had curled my hair just for this occasion. All of us girls had. The younger ones looked simply adorable. Mary was the only one we did not have to work on, her curls were natural.)

"Don't worry," Slick said gently. "He might come. Don't give up on him so easily."

I crossed my arms over my stomach and held myself tightly. "I don't know," I said, shaking my head. I looked around once more and noticed that we were now alone in the hallway. I turned back to Slick.

"Every time I see him, we seem to grow farther and father apart. I used to think he liked me, but now . . . I'm not so sure. He's just so . . . stoic and impassive. I can never tell what he's thinking! He's a mystery to me and I don't know if I want to take the time to solve it."

Slick looked thoughtfully down at me, taking in my flushed cheeks and bright eyes swimming with unshed tears. He reached forward and tenderly tucked a stray curl behind my ear.

"You worry too much," he commented with a tiny grin. I stared at him, unsure of how to respond. This was a completely different Slick than I was used to. He was acting so . . . sweet and gentle. Where was the happy-go-lucky, full of impulsive laughter and teasing boy that I knew Slick to be? And why was I suddenly so nervous under his gaze?

"Spot Conlon has . . . issues I guess you could say," Slick spoke suddenly, turning from me and sticking his hands in his pockets. He scuffed his shoes against the floor and stared down at them. "He's not very good at expressing his thoughts and feelings. He doesn't like to seem vulnerable, you know?" He glanced sidelong at me.

"A lot of us newsies are like that. We keep up a brave face because we have to. It's a tough world out there, dog-eat-dog and full of danger. We have to stay sharp, quick-witted, never backing down or showing weakness." He paused.

I ventured to speak. "But you're not like that," I said softly. "Neither is Cricket." I refrained from adding Mush to the list. He had become slightly like that. That was probably why he seemed to be inaccessible as well.

Slick shrugged. "Cricket's young and just because I'm not cold and distant like Spot, doesn't mean I don't hide my true feelings behind a mask as well." He glanced at me and a flicker of something passed across his gaze. Something I recognized but never thought I'd see in him.

I looked away. "I suppose you're right," I said, wanting to end the conversation before it went down a road I was not willing to travel.

"Well, you don't want the rest of the newsies to finish off all the wonderful food me and Mrs. Thompson made all of you, do you?" I asked, looking up at him with a small teasing smile.

His face relaxed into a wide grin. "I thought I heard some cakes calling my name." He offered me his arm and, after a slight hesitation, I took it.

We walked into the Gold Room together and I had to smile at the fun the boys seemed to be having. Several of them had taken out cards and were playing poker for cookies. Another group had found the presents we had piled for them underneath the tree and were now exclaiming over new shoes, scarves, mittens, hats, and jackets. I could not help but just stand there in the doorway, grinning my face off at the revelry. Slick was watching everything with a wide grin as well.

Suddenly, Rose's shrill voice broke over the noise to exclaim loudly: "Look! Maggie and Slick are under the mistletoe!"

Anna, who was standing next to her, instantly burst into giggles. I shifted nervously and looked up to where the innocent sprig of green and white mistletoe swung gently in the doorway. Slick looked up at it as well and I was aware of the growing stillness in the room as one by one the groups of newsies turned to look at us.

I grimaced inwardly but could find no way out of this current situation. Slick was watching me carefully, obviously not wanting to do anything I did not want him to. That softened my heart slightly. I opened my mouth to speak when a newsie shouted out from somewhere in the room,

"Slick! Go on and kiss her already!"

The boys all shouted their agreement, laughing and nudging each other in amusement. My stomach flip-flopped and then hardened; sinking like a rock and making me feel slightly sick. Slick raised an eyebrow at me. He bent forward and placed his mouth near my ear.

"It's okay if we don't Maggie," he whispered. "The world ain't gonna end if we don't follow tradition."

He leaned back and grinned slightly, although I observed that his eyes looked somewhat sad. I glanced at our intensely observant audience and then back up at Slick. I knew this would not end nicely and I did not want Slick's pride to be hurt by refusing to kiss him, besides I knew the boys would taunt him mercilessly if we backed out.

"Italians follow tradition," I said finally, reaching up behind his head and pulling it down to plant my lips firmly on his. He stiffened slightly before wrapping his arms around my waist and lifting me off my feet a couple centimeters as he kissed me back. Whoops and cheers filled the room but it sounded like a roar of noise to my ears. I could not believe what I was doing. Kissing Slick? But the worst part was that I was enjoying it.

His lips were soft, gentle, and inviting and there was a longing in his return kiss that I could feel . . . a passion that was threatening to come forth. A tremor ran through my body and I knew it was time to stop. Even though it had only been about half a second, it felt like a millennium had gone by. I began to pull away and he released me instantly. I stared up into his eyes and noticed a faint hopeful look as he stared back down at me. I shook my head ever so slightly, telling him that what he was hoping for could never be. Although I had enjoyed the kiss, Slick could never be more than a friend to me . . . it did not seem right.

A pang of sadness rang in my heart as I watched the hopeful look fade away to one of resigned acceptance. He knew his feelings for me were not returned and accepted the fact, but he could not keep a small glimmer of hurt and regret pass over his face. It broke my heart to watch him as the truth settled in and I wished curses on whoever had invented the tradition to kiss under the mistletoe.

I finally tore my gaze away from slick and looked around the room, suddenly realizing that it had grown incredibly quiet. The oppressive silence weighted down on my head and I wondered what was wrong. I saw that every single newsie was staring at something behind me and Slick. I glanced up at Slick who was wearing a puzzled expression to match my own. I turned cautiously to see what all the newsies were staring at. The blood drained slowly from my face.

Spot Conlon was standing there, watching me and Slick with an unreadable expression. Slick grimaced and stepped farther away from me. "Hey Spot," he said causally, waving. He seemed at ease but when I glanced at him I saw a trickle of sweat from his forehead run down his temple and into his hair.

I stepped forward toward Spot, smiling slightly, growing increasingly nervous under his impassive gaze. "Spot," I said softly, carefully. "I'm glad you could come."

His hard gray eyes fixed on me and narrowed slightly. His jaw twitched and I could tell he was clenching his teeth. He nodded briskly to me.

"Meyers," he said shortly. Tears pricked my eyes at his cold tone slapped me upside the face. I glanced at Slick and tried to ignore the whisperings that were beginning behind me. Slick ran his fingers through his hair agitatedly.

"Look, Spot, it's not what you think—"

Spot did not give him time to finish. He pushed past us and walked into the Gold Room. A hush fell over the crowd as he scanned the group with emotionless eyes. Then he gave them all a short nod and tentatively the conversation started once more. He moved over to the refreshment table and I turned back to Slick.

"What do we do now?" I asked in a small voice.

Slick swallowed hard and cursed under his breath. "I don't know. Golly, Mags, I'm really sorry."

I shook my head. "Don't be, I'm the one who started it." I sighed and glanced over at where Spot seemed to be burning a hole in a half-eaten cake with his gaze.

"Maybe I should go try to talk to him," I offered. Slick squeezed my arm encouragingly but before I could start to go over to the lone newsie, an entirely new batch of rowdy newsboys burst suddenly appeared and started pushing past me and Slick. I recognized them as the Manhattan newsies and tried to welcome them accordingly but the jostling and loud greetings crowded my voice out.

I found myself being carried by the crowd away from Slick and farther into the room. I looked around and around for a sign of Spot and finally caught sight of him making an escape through a side door while everyone seemed distracted by the new arrivals. I bypassed a hearty greeting by Jack, feeling bad for ignoring him, and pushed my way through the crowd to follow Spot out into the hallway. I paused to catch my breath and almost lost him as he turned a corner, heading for the kitchen. There was a backdoor exit through there and I wondered vaguely how he knew about it even as I continued to follow him.

I burst into the kitchen and watched as he quietly slipped out of the door. I ran towards it and opened the door swiftly, looking around the alley for Spot. I was surprised when I saw no one. My shoulders drooped and I was just about to turn back to return inside when a hand grasped my elbow. I started in surprise and bit back a scream when I saw that it was only Spot. I breathed a sigh of relief and he let go of my arm.

"Spot," I said pleadingly then stopped, unsure of how to go on. He waited patiently, watching me through those emotionless, flat eyes that made me want to shudder.

"Spot please," I started again. "It wasn't what it looked like, I promise you. We were under the mistletoe . . . it's tradition . . ." I trailed off, realizing how incredibly pathetic that sounded.

A slow smirk was making its way across Spot's lips and I felt as though I'd never again be so glad to see it as I was at that moment. I felt myself relaxing as the smirk reached its pinnacle. I bit my lip and stepped hesitantly forward, reaching up towards his face with my hand. Instantly the smirk disappeared and he grabbed my wrist to prevent me from touching him.

"Don't," he said in a dangerously low tone. I blinked in surprise.

"Why not?" I asked, narrowing my eyes at him. "What's wrong with you Spot? Why won't you let me get close? Every time we start to, you pull away. Why?" My tone held some pleading undertones.

He sighed and dropped my wrist. "It's ain't really any of your business," he said with a slight frown.

"I _care_ about you Spot," I said, admitting my feelings for him for the first time. "So that makes it my business."

I crossed my arms and frowned back at him more intensely. His frown deepened and soon we were engaged in a completely ridiculous and unproductive staring contest. Surprisingly, he broke eye contact first. Running his fingers through his hair, he turned his gaze up at the sky for a few moments.

"I'm not a runaway," he said suddenly, glancing at me and then back up again. "I didn't choose this life . . . my parents kicked me out." He looked at me again and this time held my gaze. "That's the reason I helped you that one day when you said your dad kicked you out. I knew how that felt and I didn't you to end up like me." His lips twitched slightly and reached and tenderly stroked one of my curls between his fingers.

I shivered slightly and grasped the hand in my own, holding it tightly. "So you distanced yourself from everyone . . ." I prompted.

"Because I did not want to be betrayed again," he continued with a resigned half-smile. "Getting close just sets you up to be disappointed," he added, shrugging.

I gripped his hand tighter and stepped forward. "Spot . . . I would _never_ betray you," I said earnestly.

"No?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "Then that little display in there . . ."

"Was just because of mistletoe," I insisted stubbornly. "I promise you, Spot: my feelings for Slick do not go beyond friendship. It's _you_ I like."

I swallowed at my admittance but did not take my eyes off of his face. Another half-smile curved his lips and he reached out with his other hand and stroked my cheek lightly, his fingers barely brushing my flushed skin.

"Not so tough now, are you?" he asked, his eyes flashing amusedly.

I jutted my chin out slightly. "I'm tough when I need to be . . . _some_one has to take care of the family since neither my father nor my brother seems to want the responsibility." I gritted my teeth slightly.

"So who takes care of you?" Spot asked, cocking his head and moving his hand back to stick the thumb around his suspenders. I shrugged.

"I can take care of myself," I said.

He shook his head slowly, "that's not good enough."

I rolled my eyes. "Then who will take care of me?" I asked.

He stepped closer and let go of my hand, cupping my cheek gently in his now freed hand. "I will," he said, matter-a-factly, as though I was stupid for not realizing it earlier.

Before I had a chance to answer, his mouth was over mine in a gentle kiss, not at all like the passionate ones we had shared before. I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him back, happy that everything seemed to be going smoothly again. I felt something cold and wet land on my cheek and I broke away from Spot in order to look up at the sky that was releasing tiny dots of powdery wetness down on New York.

"It's snowing," I said pointlessly.

Spot smirked. "You don't say?" he commented dryly.

He took my hand and led me back into the kitchen and then into the hall, back toward the Gold Room. I was greeted by a small body flinging its arms around my waist in a tight hug. I let go of Spot's hand in order to hug Cricket back and place a tiny kiss on the top of his head.

"Merry Christmas Cricket," I said softly.

I looked up and over his head to catch Slick's gaze. He smiled slightly and waved, nodding to Spot and raising an eyebrow in question. I smiled and nodded back, indicating that everything was back to normal . . . better than normal actually. His smile widened into a grin but I could not help but notice the somewhat sad look in his eyes. I sighed inwardly, thinking that apparently this Christmas was not to be the best for everyone.

The clock stuck eight and Rose and Anna called everyone over to the piano where Susanna had been coerced into playing some Christmas Carols. The newsies were gathering around and sitting nearby, laughing and talking as Susanna launched into a hearty song. The boys all started to sing and Cricket left me to get a better look. Slick tore his eyes away from me and hurried over, not wanting to miss out on the fun. I felt Spot take my hand once more but when I glanced at him he was watching the newsies, his face impassive although softer than normal. My heart was gladdened to see it so.

After a couple rounds of singing I figured it was time for drinks, many of the boys had been singing quite energetically. But when I turned to leave, Spot kept a tight hold of my hand and would not let me turn away. I glanced at him perplexedly.

"What?" I whispered.

"You're not going to want to miss this," he muttered, nodding toward the piano where Susanna had begun to play "O Little Town of Bethlehem." Minnie stood up, her hands clasped behind her back, and began to sing. I started in surprise; Minnie was usually so shy . . .

"_O little town of Bethlehem_," she began, her sweet voice not carrying very far but receiving listening ears as the boys piped down in order to hear.

"_How still we see thee lie  
Above thy deep and dreamless sleep  
The silent stars go by  
Yet in thy dark streets shineth  
The everlasting Light  
The hopes and fears of all the years  
Are met in thee tonight._"

I smiled and started to clap when she sat down, but Spot kept a hold of my hand and would not let me. I frowned slightly.

"It was beautiful," I said, thinking he would not let me applaud my sister because he had not liked it. But he shook his head and grinned slightly at me.

"Wait," he said as Susanna began another verse. My mouth dropped as I watched the next singer stand slowly, sticking his hand into his pocket, fixing his eyes on me.

In a hoarse yet angelic falsetto, Cricket began to sing:

"_For Christ is born of Mary  
And gathered all around  
While mortal's sleep, the angel's keep  
Their watch of wondering love."_

Tears sprung into my eyes and I released Spot's hand in order to clasp my hands together above my heart, my ears not trusting what they were hearing. Cricket hesitated slightly but then went on, his voice becoming clearer the more he sang.

"_O morning stars together  
Proclaim the holy birth  
And praises sing to God the King  
And Peace to men on earth._"

Rose and Anna stood up for a harmonic duet, which was also beautiful, but I barely heard them, my eyes were fixed on Cricket as he grinned broadly, sitting down amongst back-slaps and hair-ruffles given by the other newsies in congratulations. I wiped the tears from my eyes and watched the exchanges with a heart aching with joy.

"He practiced for weeks," Spot told me quietly. "But only for me. He wanted you to be the one to hear it first before anyone else. He did it for you."

The tears began trickling down my cheeks then and the rest of the song faded into the background as Cricket looked up at me and gave me a thumbs up sign with his only hand, grinning widely. I laughed slightly and gave him two thumbs up of my own. I sighed slightly in contentment as he turned back to the other newsies and I glanced at Spot. He gestured toward the door.

"Your errand, my lady?" he said, smirking slightly.

I snorted softly and headed off to get the drinks thinking that this had been one of the best Christmas Eve's of my life, despite the fact that Mush and Papa had not shown. I sighed, resigned to the fact that I might never see either of them ever again.

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**A/N: Absence may make the heart grow fonder, but reviews make it grow even fonderer . . . fonderest . . . even more fonder . . . ?**


	16. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

I fell asleep instantly, worn out by the long hours of cleaning. Cricket and Slick and Spot had stayed afterwards to help out and I was very grateful to them. However it took a while to get them to actually work, they being more interested in finishing off most of the sweets Mrs. Thompson had prepared then actually helping us clean the place up.

When we finally said goodbye for the night, I tucked the little ones into bed and the collapsed on my own bed. I was out in a matter of seconds. It seemed only moments when I was suddenly jolted awake by the feeling that something or someone was watching me. I sat up quickly and looked around my room. Everything was in place . . . but my door was open, and the shadow of someone fell across my bed. I wondered who it could be.

"Who's there?" I asked, rising to my knees, ready to run if it was a burglar or someone equally dangerous.

"It's okay Mags," the person said, moving closer and out of the light so I could see him better. I started in surprise when I saw who it was.

"Tommy?" I asked, forgetting to call him "Mush" for the moment. Disregarding the fact that I was in my nightgown, I jumped out of bed and ran to him, throwing my arms around him in a tight hug.

"I missed you at the party," I said, pulling away and looking up at him.

"I'm sorry," he said softly, brushing a limp curl away from my face. The curls had begun to droop a while ago, but I doubted that really mattered now. "I wanted to come. I just . . . couldn't bring myself to do it. I was afraid that if I came . . . you would want me to stay and I didn't want to make you watch me leave again."

I smiled slightly but was still somewhat confused. "But then why now?" I asked curiously.

He was quiet for a moment and lowered himself to sit on my bed. I sat down beside him and took his hand, patting it gently to encourage him.

"I've thought about it a lot, Maggie, and I realized how immature I've been. Not wanting to take responsibility for you and the girls." He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I'm going to come back. For good this time."

I gasped and then squealed slightly, throwing my arms around him and almost knocking him to the ground in my excitement. He laughed softly and hugged me back.

"Oh Mush that's wonderful!" I cried, remembering to use his nickname this time.

He patted my back and then pushed me away so he could see my face. "I'm going to talk to Papa as well," he said.

I blinked in surprise. There was so much good news to take in. "Really?" I asked, somewhat stupidly.

He laughed. "Yes, really. I'm going to try and see if I can't get him to come here to live. I'll be a big brother to you girls, but I can't be a father. That's Papa's place."

I smiled slightly. "You've gotten a lot smarter since the last time I saw you," I said, tapping his forehead lightly with my forefinger.

He grinned. "I have a smart sister to keep me straight," he said. "And I get the feeling that that's going to come in handy." I smiled smugly.

Mush stood. "Well, I'm going to go say goodnight to my other little sisters. I'll see you tomorrow." He gave me a slight wink and I grinned.

"Goodnight Mush," I said, walking him to the door. He smiled back at me.

"Goodnight Maggie." He turned to leave and I started to close the door when he suddenly stopped and turned back to look at me.

"Oh," he said. "And my name is Thomas."

I looked surprised, but before I could respond, he had entered another room. Minnie's room. I wondered what she would think of her brother appearing before her bedside. I had to smile when I heard her happy shriek and knew she must be hugging him even tighter than I had.

I shut my door slowly, thinking about his words. So he would finally become Thomas, our older brother. I was glad he was taking his responsibility seriously for the first time in a long time. I crawled back into bed and pulled the covers up to my chin. For the first time in a long time, I fell asleep with a smile on my face . . . completely at peace.

* * *

**Well, that's The End. I know this Epilogue is not as long as the rest of the chapters, but this was all I wanted it to contain. Thank you for all the reviews and support! Ya'll are awesome. I'm so glad I was able to affect so many people through my writing. I love that! I give ya'll a round of applause for being such a great audience. You guys really were the key to a lot of my inspiration, so I thank you for that. "See you in another life, eh brothah?"**


	17. Author's Note

**A/N: Well, I caved in. I'm writing a sequel. It should be up soon, so keep an eye out for it all those who wanted one. :-P (P.S. to all you Cricket lovers . . . This one's for you. ;-).)**


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